Silver Blade
by Jaenelle Angelline
Summary: Sequel to Doctor Ryan. Finished. If you haven't read 'Doctor Ryan' please do before reading this book. Then read the last book in this trilogy, 'Vengeance'. Review please! Thanx!
1. Default Chapter

Chapter 1: Shanghai Breezes

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Its funny how it sounds as if you're right next door

When you're really half a world away

I just can't seem to find the words I'm looking for

To say the things I want to say

I can't remember what I felt so close to you

It's almost more than I can bear

Though I seem a half a million miles from you

You are in my heart and living there

Sara sat on her bed in the hotel in Shanghai, writing. Not paperwork, for the first time in a long while, but a letter. The sad strains of one of her favorite songs had never seemed so appropriate to her as she sat there, writing a letter to someone she missed so much she felt like half of her heart was missing.

__

I miss you so much, dearling, she wrote. _I was walking in a local park with the head of ChangAhn_ _Enterprises today, and I could hardly keep my mind on the conversation; all I could think of was you. I miss you, Logan._

She started a new sheet of paper with a sad chuckle. It was costing her a fortune in stamps to send these long sixteen-page letters home to the mansion, but she had so much to tell all of them, and she was homesick, for the first time in her life, she was homesick for a place and people. _I've never felt homesick for anyone, or anywhere, before. You are the first._

It had never felt like this before. Even as a child, moving from military base to military base with her father, she'd never felt homesick. The closest thing she'd ever felt to being homesick was leaving the Tai Chi monastery in the Chinese mountains, where she'd spent ten years while her father had been stationed in China. The other kids on the base made fun of the monks, so quiet, moving around the monastery and through the town unpretentiously, but she had found their silence refreshing, and their gardens beautiful. One afternoon she'd gotten into a fight with the lead girl in a gang of other military brats, and had hurt the other one badly. Fearful of what her father would say, she had escaped to the gardens with their peace and solitude. One of the monks had found her there, dusted her off, picked up her spirits, and then offered her sanctuary when she needed it. Over the next ten years she had learned Tai Chi from them, and other more valuable lessons like keeping her temper. It had been a shock when her father had been transferred back to the states when she was sixteen, and she'd had to leave. She had cried in anger, but had no choice but to pack her things.

The pain of leaving then was nothing like what she felt now. She had thought, wearily and bitterly over the last year, that if she had known getting Meredith Pharmaceuticals up on its feet after a six-year slump would be so difficult, she would have done what the company manager had said; declared bankruptcy and sold the company. Her life had been nothing but travel since November of the previous year. She had visited the Washington DC offices first. That was manageable, since she could still come home each weekend. But when she had gotten to London, and found herself compelled to spend four months there she began to feel worried. The Moscow branch had required a two-month stay; Tokyo had required six. 

Then a company in Shanghai about opening an office there had approached Mark Harmon, her company manager. She had been compelled, again, to stop in and look, and the offer had been opportune. She had agreed to the opening of the Shanghai branch; then found there was no one to open it and run it. So she had stayed, overseeing the hiring of staff, doctors, and lab technicians, a full staff of managers and personnel. Her two-week stay in Shanghai was now going on seven months, and she was desperately homesick. She could barely wait for Mark Harmon to return, so she could go home.

"Good morning, Sara!" came a cheerful voice at her office door, and she looked up, startled. Mark Harmon, manager of Meredith Pharmaceuticals, stood in the door, and she nearly upset her chair jumping up to greet the man who by now was a very dear friend/business advisor. 

"Mark!" She gave him an enthusiastic bear hug and planted him in a chair facing her desk, and in a complete defiance of her own rule she sat on the end of her own desk. "How was the graduation?"

Mark Harmon sat back in his chair and smiled. Sara had sent him back to New York to see his daughter graduate from Columbia. He had practically promised Sara anything she wanted if he could be there, and she, remembering how much she had wanted her own father at her graduation from the same university, had told him to go.

"It was wonderful," he said. "I am the proudest father in the world, Sara, I swear I am. And she graduated second in her class. Second! She's going to work as a journalist for National Geographic. They already asked her. It's a wonderful opportunity, and she's ecstatic." He looked at her, and his smile faded a bit. "Sara, how long has it been since you went home?"

"Too long," she said, unable to hide the longing in her voice. "We were in London the last time I got to go home, and it was only a day."

"Are you worried your young man will forget you?" he teased gently, noting the lines in all the wrong places for a woman only twenty-nine, five years older than the daughter he had seen a few short days ago.

"Oh, no," she smiled warmly, "never that."

"Still, better not to chance it, eh?" he stood, running an arm around her shoulders. "Go home."

"Thanks, Mark," she grabbed her briefcase and began to put her laptop in it, then sat down suddenly, hard. "I can't," she said, looking stricken. "There's the meeting with the Shanghai major tonight over dinner, and tomorrow there's the opening ceremony. I have to be here, Mark, I can't go." She looked crushed. For a moment it looked like she would be home for Easter, that Sunday, but it wasn't going to be. "I won't be able to leave until Sunday morning, at the earliest."

"Then rest," he urged her. "Take the day off. Go sightseeing, or something. There are lots of tourist spots, lots of things to do. I'm sure you could find something to do before the dinner tonight."

"Really?" She looked hopeful. "You mean it?"

"Really." He made shooing motions toward the door. "Go on. Do something useless for the day."

She spent the day ducking in and out of shops, buying souvenirs for her friends at home. A lovely shawl for Storm, sky-blue with lacy white clouds. A set of good polishing stones for Betsy, for her katana. A good thick wool blanket, for Charles, it a pattern of warm earth tones. A silk sweater for Scott the exact color of Jean's eyes, a jade ring for Jean and an assortment of jade jewelry and little trinkets for the others Finally, weary with shopping, she stopped in at a small Buddhist temple on her way back to the hotel and just sat there for a long while. She finally sighed, got up—and almost ran straight into a small monk wearing the traditional saffron yellow robes of a Buddhist priest. "I'm sorry," she stammered, fumbling in her mind for the smattering of Chinese she knew "I'm sorry—"

"You are the one," he said, looking eerie, almost otherworldly, in the flickering light of the altar candles. "I have seen you, the silver warrior woman who will save the world. But a skilled warrior woman needs a weapon worthy of her. In order for you to defeat the black bird from the stars you must have a good weapon. Here." He pointed to the seat in front of her. "Use it well."

Sara followed the pointing hand and saw a long, silk-wrapped object on the seat. A prickle ran up her arms as she reached for it, and she knew what it was before she picked it up. It was a sword, but unlike any she'd ever seen. The adamantium blade seemed to glow silver in the light of the altar flames, and she gently touched the edge of the blade, and gasped as her finger came away cut. A drop of deep red blood welled up from the tip of her finger, and she started to bring her finger up to her mouth. The monk caught her arm and turned her wrist, guiding it to the hilt, where she saw a strange violet stone. It was odd, because swords meant for use were usually not ornamented. The monk pressed her bleeding finger to the stone, then to her throat, where Logan's necklace still hung around her slender throat. It might have been her imagination, but she would have sworn that the stone flared with a violet flame in its depths for just a moment when she touched it. The stone in her necklace suddenly throbbed in response, and flared for a moment white-hot before it became quiet again, but she felt something subtly different in her necklace. 

"What--" she turned to the monk standing before her. He was gone. She looked around the shrine frantically, called "Hello?" several times, and even ran out into the street looking for the man, but saw no one. The setting sun reminded her of her dinner engagement, and she returned to the sword, wondering how to get it up to her hotel room. The hotel had metal detectors.

"Oh well," she shrugged, "If they take it away then I guess I'm not meant to have it." She wrapped it in the length of scarlet silk it and its scabbard had been lying in (silk that she could feel was pure, and so finely woven she was sure it was the legendary stuff that could pass through a woman's ring) and exited the shrine.

She was stopped as she walked into the hotel lobby, as she knew she would be, and the guard asked her to open the object. She was shocked to find that the finely woven silk had become coarse woolen plaid, and not a particularly pretty pattern, either. The gleaming silver blade in it had become a plastic and aluminum affair, such as one would find in a cheap tourist's souvenir shop and buy as a toy for one's children to play with. The guard had laughed, and waved her on, and Sara hurried up to her room. Once in the privacy of her room, she looked again at her burden. The sword gleamed silver-blue in the lamplight, and the wrapping was once again the finest silk. Unable to comprehend it, she slipped the sword under her bed and hurriedly dressed for the dinner.

She brought Mark up to her room later on the pretense of discussing some minor point of business, but left the sword out where he could see it as she talked. Mark picked it up, swinging it in the air a couple times, and laughed. "Sara," he said, "You didn't tell me you had a child back at home you were buying presents for!"

"I don't," she said, surprised, then temporized, "I have a friend at home whose little boy loves swords and stuff. I thought he'd like that."

"Thoughtful, thoughtful Sara," he stood up them , and patted her shoulder. "Get some sleep, dear, you look all worn out. And remember to start packing, you're going home the day after tomorrow."

Home! Sara had almost forgotten her incipient return in the complex problem she had been handed that day. She scrambled into bed happily. She would go home the day after tomorrow! 

Tired from the day's activity, she was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

She awoke to a sudden sound. It was silent, stealthy, sounding like someone were trying to get into her room without being heard. She reached for the touch-lamp on her bedside table, and touched it. Nothing. There was no electricity.

There was a stealthy scraping somewhere beside her bed, and she reacted, springing out, thanking god that she had been too lazy to put on a nightgown that night. If she had to move fast she couldn't be hampered by all that cloth. She grabbed for the sword under her bed, thanking her luck that she had left it there, now in easy reach. It seemed to almost fly into her hand, and to her utter shock, a violet glow started at the hollow of her throat where her necklace was, and at the hilt of the sword. It swirled around her eyes, and suddenly she could see three figures around her, all dressed in black and moving silently.

"Get out," she declared tersely. "I had a long day, and I don't feel like dealing with this." She assumed a defensive stance.

A bullet whizzed toward her out of nowhere, and Sara's mind dimly registered the fact even as her body moved to block it. She was shocked as her arms, of their own accord, seemed to come up and block it. The bullet pinged off her blade and went off somewhere in the darkness. Even as she tried to assimilate this new ability of hers, the sword was pulling her into motion, this way and that, blocking and parrying the shadowed figures that seemed to come after her, swift as lightning. But she moved faster than they, and they dropped back. One of them spoke in a low, grating voice. "We are the Guardians. Give it to us, outlander. It was taken from us without our knowledge."

"Chang belongs to me," she heard herself say in flawless Chinese, and blinked. Where had she learned that, much less the sword's name? "He accepts me as his wielder. I will not gainsay his choice. Leave, before he takes exception to your interference and does what he wishes to do. I am not so strong-willed yet as to oppose his desires for long."

"So be it," the man said. "Carry him well, Bearer, and return him when he has served his purpose." And they were gone, as if they had never been there to begin with.

The light in the handle of the sword winked out, as did its reciprocating glow in her necklace. And a second later, Sara herself slumped unconscious to the floor, exhausted beyond measure at the sudden expenditure of energy the sword had required of her.

She awoke stiff, her body aching from fatigue. She stretched herself out, carefully, working the knots out of her muscles caused by sleeping on the floor, and carefully tucked the sword—Chang—into its scabbard and its wrapping of silk. She barely knew how she made it through the day, so tired was she from the previous night. Mark noticed, but chalked it out to being tired and overworked, and after the opening ceremony, he ordered her to go back to the hotel and pack for her trip home, and rest. She slept peacefully that night, not bothered by dreams or any unexpected intrusions. 

She woke, refreshed and ready for the long flight home. She dressed in record time, and Mark drove her to the airport. On the way, they discussed their plans. They settled it that she needn't come back. He swore that he could manage just fine here for the few weeks after the opening, and then he would return to New York as well. He practically ordered her to stay in New York, at home, and that the company, having run for so long with no guidance, would not now fall apart because she took a vacation. Seventeen months was a long time to be gone from home. 

'The hard part is over, Sara," he told her as he helped her carry her bags to the baggage area. "All you really need to do now is an annual inspection if the company's branches. You trust me, don't you?" he asked her.

"Implicitly," she said fervently.

"Let me make the small decisions for you, then. Anything that's big enough to need your personal attention I will bring to you when I need to. Relax. Enjoy yourself with your young man."

Sara smiled to herself as she went through the baggage area after he left her. He would probably be startled if he ever saw her 'young man.'

The customs officials stopped her when they saw her package, as she suspected they might. They didn't even ask to see it; they brought her immediately to the office of their commander, telling him that she was smuggling national artifacts and treasures out of the country. She could understand them perfectly; something that had only just started happening when she picked up the Sword. They chattered away in Chinese before her, assuming she could not understand them, as she stood there and worried that by the time they got around to even noticing she was there, she would have missed her flight. Finally she interrupted them politely but firmly. "Excuse me," she said to them in Chinese. "If you would care to examine it, I can assure you it is only a cheap souvenir toy I purchased for my nephew," and she unwrapped the sword. The wrapping was once again plain wool, and the sword itself was once again plastic and aluminum. The commander stood and ushered her out with the most gracious of apologies, and she hurried out feeling somewhat guilty as he turned to his subordinates and harangued them.

None of it mattered when she got out of the terminal at JFK and saw her beloved waiting there for her. She dropped her bags and ran, calling his name, rushing into his arms, and giving him a long, lingering kiss that was broken only by a realization that breathing wasn't optional. They went back, picked up her bags, climbed into the van (he had driven Xavier's van in anticipation of the baggage she would have) and went home.


	2. Chang

Chapter 2: Chang

Sara flopped down across her bed and sighed. "God, I missed this place so much," she moaned, and rolled over. "I missed you too, dearling," and she kissed Logan full on the lips, hungry for his touch after too long apart. He returned the kiss with interest, then pulled away as the others began bringing her bags and baggage in. She unpacked, dropping dirty clothes in the hamper and distributing her presents. Scott loved the sweater; Storm loved her shawl, and the other gifts she had gotten them were similarly received.

Betsy looked narrow-eyed at the long package wrapped in coarse wool, and snickered. "Sara, it's not much of a sword, you know," as she reached for it.

Sara picked up the package and sat on the bed, laying it across her knees. "It's not what it looks like," she said. "I got it from a strange little Buddhist monk at a shrine in a Shanghai market." She stared at it, waiting for it to change. "Come on, damn you, change!" she slapped at it in frustration. "There's no customs officers here, no one is going to try to take you away; but if I get upset with you, Chang, I will drop you into the nearest lake myself!"

They looked at her as if she was crazy, and she felt a little foolish too, talking to a sword, but their sidelong looks turned to awed gazes as the sword _shifted_ its shape. There was no other way to describe it, and even though Sara had seen the results, she'd never seen the actual shifting. Its outline blurred, wavered, and in a flash of bright violet light, changed into the sword she knew it was. The light gleamed off the keen blue-white blade, and Betsy drew in a startled breath. "Sara, what is it? No sword I know could do that!"

Sara briefly described the monk in the shrine and what he had said to her. "He said that I was the silver warrior who would save the world," she said, her lips twisting in amusement as she remembered it. It sounded hopelessly melodramatic and unbelievable as she told them about it, and she said, "I don't know, I guess it's one of those things, you had to be there. It was creepy. But it seems to have strange powers. That night three black-clad men who called themselves its Guardians broke into my hotel room and demanded that I give it back to them. The sword," it flared in brightness as she mentioned it, "blocked bullets and somehow gave me night vision. I could see them in my room as plain as I see you now, but the lights weren't on. And I could suddenly speak perfect Chinese. I told them that it was mine… okay, okay, you're a he, I know," she patted the hilt of the sword in her lap, and it dimmed its brilliance obediently, "I told them he was mine. His name is Chang; I don't know how I know that, but I do. They made me promise to bring him back when I was done with him. I assume he'll tell me when he has to go back." 

"May I?" Betsy gestured to it. Sara hesitated. Chang had chosen her, but what if he felt Betsy and decided she was a better wielder? Sara couldn't help feeling a tiny bit possessive about it. "Okay," she said at last. "Just be careful, he's awfully sharp."

Betsy drew the sword carefully out of its scabbard, but the room was too small and crowded for her to do much else. "Can I take it to the Danger Room?" she asked. "I want to see how it handles."

"Okay," Sara said after another hesitation. Betsy sheathed Chang and went to the door of the bedroom. Just as she reached it, though, the sword seemed to slip out of her hand and came to rest on the floor just inside the room. Betsy picked him up and tried to walk out of the room again. Again he somehow slipped out of her grasp and ended on the floor. 

She looked at Sara in astonishment. "He's not going anywhere without you."

"All right. I'm coming." Sara said. As they left, she heard Jean telepathically calling for Xavier to meet them in the Danger Room.

Betsy stood in the center of the room and drew the blade. "It's craftsmanship is excellent," she breathed. "I wonder who made it?" She made an experimental swing, and suddenly it didn't feel so good. The center of balance went completely off, and she dropped it in surprise. Betsy spoke. "I apologise, Chang," she said formally. "I shall return you to your chosen." She picked up the sword and handed it to Sara. "It doesn't like me," she told the other woman. "The moment I tried to swing, its balance went haywire. Sara, I think it really is yours." Betsy drew her own katana and struck a defensive pose. Sara raised Chang. 

"Careful, Sara!" Logan called. "The blade is adamantium, like the stuff I have. If you hit Betts too hard you could seriously hurt her." Sara glanced up where he was standing at the observation window with the others, and blew him a kiss, then concentrated on her opponent. She and Betsy sparred for several moments, and the difference was clear to all of them.

Sara's study of Tai Chi swordwork was good; Betsy herself could find no fault with her training. But not being able to practice readily had dulled Sara's reflexes and slowed her down. She was good, and could hold her own in a fight, but if she were facing more than one opponent at a time, she'd be dead in a couple minutes. 

Chang changed that. She moved faster, her reflexes were unbelievable, and Betsy couldn't catch her with any of the assassin's tricks that used to work on Sara. And Sara's face was almost blank, as if she wasn't really concentrating on what she was doing but was letting her body do the work. Betsy finally called a halt, and both women lowered their swords, dripping sweat and panting. Logan walked into the room. "Sare," he said, "yer pullin' yer punches. C'mon, let's you an' me see what that bit o' metal can do."

And if the watchers had thought they were seeing incredible work before, what they saw now was unbelievable. Even Xavier sat openmouthed as Logan and Sara fought each other. He didn't hold anything back, nor did she. He wasn't in the total berserker rage that scared everyone on occasion, but he sure was fighting like he was, and Sara was meeting him, stroke for stroke. 

As the fight went on, they saw a violet haze begin to come up around Sara, originating from the amethyst around her slender throat and the purple stone in the hilt of the sword. She didn't seem to be aware of it and Logan was too good a fighter to allow anything to distract him, but they were astonished and a bit wary. "Charles, what is that?" Jean asked him, never taking her eyes off the scene below them.

"I don't know," Charles was troubled. Such a sword, with such powers, and an obvious sentience, in the hands of good but inexperienced fighter who had nothing remarkable about her…it worried him indeed. He couldn't imagine why the sword would have gone to Sara, and what the X-Men told him the monk had said made no sense. Sara was no warrior. 

She drew blood first, a short slice across his upper arm that tore his shirt and stung like hell form the sweat on his skin. His body healed that, efficiently, then he saw his chance and swung for her. The tip of his claws bounced off the violet haze around her, and he experienced a moment of shock. The haze acted like an energy forcefield that prevented anything form getting through. "Sara!" he yelled to her, breaking her concentration, "I wanna test that forcefield! Lower your sword!"

She did, gasping in exertion, and he gathered his strength. He assaulted that forcefield, striking sparks off it with his claws, but didn't make a dent in it. But she looked like she was visibly weakening in that energy field, and just as he was going to give up, his claws did penetrate the field and ripped her shirt and chest open. She screamed and doubled over, the forcefield collapsed, and he was beside her instantly. There were three parallel gashes across her chest, from her left collarbone to her right armpit, and she was bleeding profusely. "Sara, I'm sorry, I didn' mean it--"

She waved him off, and he trailed off as he saw her chest begin to heal. Much faster than she ordinarily would, faster than he'd ever seen. She gasped to him, "Could we give it a rest? Using Chang is exhausting. God, I'm so tired…" and she crumpled, asleep before she hit the floor. When Logan picked her up, he was surprised to feel how light she was. Not more than one ten, max. 

"Infirmary!" Hank snapped, and he carried her off down the hall to the infirmary, Betsy carrying Chang. Hank checked her. ""It's okay, she's just asleep. Probably from all the energy she spent just now, and jetlag as well. I'll be very surprised if she doesn't sleep until tomorrow morning." Reassured that she was all right, Logan went to check on the results with the others of their exercise in the Danger Room. Betsy left the sword under Sara's bed.

Charles was looking at the readouts as Hank and Logan joined them. "The energy radiating from her is incredible," he said, awed. "But look at her body mass. This troubles me. Hank, her body mass decreases the longer the fight goes on. When she went in there, she weighed one forty. When she left, she was one ten. She burned off thirty pounds during the course of that fight. Her body's converting matter to energy faster than anyone I've ever seen. Presumably if the fight had gone on longer she could burn herself out. I don't like this."

"I don't either," Logan growled. "How long's it gonna take her ta get back what she's lost? I wanna tell 'er ta take it back ta where she got it. The sword's doin' incredible things for her speed, fightin'ability, reflexes, and healin' ability, but it's claimin' too high a price."

"I shall speak with her when she wakes," Xavier said. "In the meantime…Betsy, where did you leave the sword?"

"Under her bed."

"Please get it and place it in the weapons cabinet until I can examine it."

Betsy looked uncertain. "Charles, I'm afraid that won't be possible."

"Why?"

She told him about the sword's resistance to being moved from Sara's immediate vicinity.

He sighed. "Then we will just have to make sure she does not use it. Take the steel swordbox that she kept her old sword in and place this one in it. Then lock it. I would prefer that she not use it unless in an emergency or she is supervised to be sure she does not drain herself too much again."

The preparations were duly made, and Sara slept peacefully.

She slumped into the breakfast room late the next morning, yawning and rubbing her eyes. Now that she was up, the loss of mass was even more pronounced; her clothes hung limply on her body. Jean was fixing a sandwich, and Sara asked her, "Could you make me one, too, please? I'm starving." Jean obliged, and Sara ate it so fast Jean had another one made as she finished the first one.

Sara ate steadily and with single-minded concentration for nearly a half an hour before she finally felt satisfied. Jean stared in shock as she seemed to fill her clothes again right before her eyes. Rapid the matter-to-energy conversion might be, but the food-to-body-mass conversion was faster. It was something of a relief to know, and she 'pathed that to Xavier quietly as he entered the room. 

"Sara," Charles asked, "How do you feel?"

She blinked at him. "After the workout, exhausted," she answered. "I'm not sure why. After the fight with the Guardians I fell asleep there on the floor still holding Chang. I guess it uses a lot more energy to keep moving that fast. Charles, it scared me. It didn't take the same energy from me that it did in the battle with the Guardians. I think I'll use a regular sword for practices and only use Chang in an emergency."

"Part of the energy expenditure was the forcefield," Xavier said thoughtfully, handing her the readout from the Danger Room's computers. "Can you raise and lower that at will?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I'd never seen the energy field until yesterday. I want to try it and see--" She started to get up and Xavier waved her down. 

"Absolutely not, Sara," he said. "You are not touching the thing again until your weight is back up and Hank gives you a clean bill of health. Relax, and take the rest of the day easy."

So she did. She and Logan spent the day together, walking their favorite trails in the woods, riding their bikes up and down the back roads, and later she went into the office and spoke briefly with Mark Harmon about the Shanghai venture. He assured her it was going well, that there was nothing new to report, and she hung up feeling reassured.

They had a party that afternoon to welcome her home. They guys engaged in a game of football as the girls cheered them on, and sunset found them all out on the patio eating barbecued ribs and chili dogs. Sara ate like a horse. She felt slightly embarrassed about how much she was eating, but she did need to gain the weight back, and she was hungry. So she ate and drank all she wanted to, and fell asleep that night with the man she loved most in the whole world.


	3. A Deal With the Devil

Chapter 3: A Deal With the Devil

Richard Ryan slapped his cards down on the table in disgust, his handsome features marred by the ugly frown on his face. "That's it, Tony," he said. "I'm cleaned out. Sorry, but we're going to have to call it a night."

Tony Sciantorelli folded up his cards and leaned back in his chair. "You ain'tcher usual self tonight, Riccio, ya know what I'm sayin'?" he said in his heavy New York Italian accent. "Whassup?"

Richard sighed, for once not bothering to correct the man. Riccio was a name very few called him anymore; he wanted no one to know he had ties to the Italian Mafia. But this was less of a sore point than formerly, as he no longer had a public profile to keep up.

"It's my bitch," he said, not bothering to hide his hatred. "She had our prenuptial agreement annulled, and she's taken back her company. I've been hearing bits and pieces about her the last year and a half. She's traveling around, acting all concerned for the company."

"Yah. So?" Tony took out a cigar and lit it lazily, and they both watched the smoke rise to the ceiling.

Ryan slapped the table. "Because it's mine, damnit! Her father promised me I could have her and the company if I got my father to give him a promotion. He signed the agreement on her behalf. He assured me nothing would break it, and here she is, waltzing around spending all that money that was supposed to be mine!" His face looked purple above his collar.

Tony reflected that Ryan seemed to be losing it. Before, no matter what happened, nothing could rile up the Senator. He was known as Rock steady Ryan. Now here he was, flying off the handle at the littlest things. Tony knew why, of course. Where before Ryan could keep all his anger bottled up until he got home and could take it out on his wife, now he had nothing to relieve that tension. Ryan couldn't even go out and get a hooker, because the press was hovering over him like vultures over dying prey. He felt kind of sorry for the guy.

"Need a bitch?" he said, gesturing to his poker chip of the night. It was a pale-faced hooker who needed money for her fix so badly she'd do anything for it. And she had. Tony couldn't fault her servicing of the poker club that night, though Ryan hadn't taken his usual pleasure in her cries as they did the usual revolting things to the whey-faced hooker.

"Nah," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "I don't like blonds."

Tony blew another smoke ring, watched it drift to the ceiling. "I got another one in mind," he said. "Small, slender, long black hair…just like your ex-wife." Ryan looked momentarily interested, then shook his head. 

"No. The way I feel right now, I'd probably kill her. The thing about my wife is, she was a mutant. Her special ability was healing. I could beat her black and blue one night and she'd be right as rain the next."

Tony leaned in toward Ryan. "Hey. Look, man. I know this guy, see. He found out his old lady was a mutant, and he hates muties. She didn't tell him, and when he found out he was furious." He lowered his voice. "There's this guy, they call him the Shadowman. He got lots of money stashed somewhere, and he pays for information about mutie freaks. Pays well. Well, my guy went to him, told him he had a wife who was one of them freaks. The Shadowman investigated the guy's claim, went and had his bounty hunters go and get the woman. When it was proven that she was a mutant, he paid the guy fifty thousand dollars for turning in a mutant." 

Tony shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I wouldn't want anyone I know personally to fall into the hands of the Shadowman, but if you're that mad at her you could probably work out a deal with him. He can be found in Warehouse 3 down on Canal Street, by the docks."

"What does he do with the ones he finds?" Ryan leaned forward, all interest. 

"Most of the time they're found dead, the victim of a drive-by, a mugging, a car accident. Some never turn up again. Just disappear. My guy did find out when he went back to the Shadowman and asked for his wife back. He changed his mind, see. But whatever he found out drove him mad; he jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge the next night."

Ryan ignored that. "I don't care what he does with the bitch as long as I get my money," he snarled. "He can have his joy of her. I hate her. You know something, Tony, I feel better. Can I use your chip tonight? I'll go see this Shadowman tomorrow."

"Sure." And Tony leaned back in his chair and lit another cigar. He remembered Ryan's wife, though he'd only met her a couple of times, mostly at the beginning of their marriage, and he thanked God he'd never won one of the games in which she was the prize. She had looked the decent sort, pretty and quiet, and obviously devoted to Ryan. She was one of the few women in Washington who had married for love, not money. Tony thought it was kind of a vile trick her father and the former Senator had played on her, signing away her money in exchange for a promotion and money. But it wasn't his business, he thought as he puffed on his cigar and listened to his hooker shriek behind him at whatever Ryan was doing to her.

No, not his business at all.

The Lincoln wouldn't fit down the narrow alleys on Canal Street, and Ryan cursed as he found himself compelled to get out and walk the remaining distance to Warehouse 3. It was a grey, squat building, rather well-kept, in contrast to the rundown condition of those around it. He walked into the warehouse, shaking the mud and rain off his Armani loafers. "Hello?" he called into the near darkness.

"That door behind you, close it you will," came a midnight, sepulchral voice from somewhere above him. He closed the door, and as he did so, a single bright light came on. "If it is business you have with the Shadowman, stand you in the light and your business state. Otherwise leave you will, and not return."

Ryan stepped into the light, shaking slightly at that low, basso profundo voice echoing around him. There were too many hard surfaces here that sound could bounce off, and the acoustic effect made it hard to pinpoint the origin of the voice, but he guessed it was somewhere above him and off to the left. He faced the ominous darkness and said, "I hear the Shadowman pays well for information about mutants," he said, trying to keep his voice from quivering. "I have one for him."

"Indeed," said that voice again, and this time the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, for the voice was accompanied by the strong feeling that _something_ had turned its full attention on him, and it wasn't a kind regard. Ryan felt all of a sudden as a rabbit might feel under the gaze of a hawk who was not particularly hungry but might at any moment kill it for the sake of having a meal at hand later. "And who, this mutant would be, you are trying to turn in?"

"My ex-wife." Or would be ex when the divorce hearing rolled around, in a month or so.

"Why coming here you will be, this information to be giving?" the voice rumbled. "And truth you will speak, or leaving here you will not be."

"I need the money," he said, "And I want to be rid of my ex-wife."

"Money you do not _need_," the voice spat in thinly disguised disgust. "Money you _want_. When expensive clothes you wear, money you do not need."

"Want, then," Ryan was going to agree with the voice. Anything to ensure he would leave here alive.

"Your ex-wife, hate her you do," continued the voice. "Reason, you have not. In the news you have been, divorcing you she is, for hurting her you were. The Shadowman hunts not for innocents. The Shadowman hunts not for mutants unless benefit there is. What ability has she, that the Shadowman should expend time and resources in chasing one who has no wrong done?"

"She heals," Ryan's heart sank. He couldn't see any way Sara's power could benefit the Shadowman.

"Repeat," said the voice, and Ryan felt like cringing now. The Shadowman's attention had only half been on him before, if this new intensity was any indication.

"S-she can heal injuries done to her body, and on others," he said.

There was a sound, like a sigh, of satisfaction. "If truth you are telling, worth the time it is. Picture of this woman have you?"

"N-no." Why hadn't he thought to bring a picture? Of course it would be needed to hunt Sara down.

"Is lucky you are, her picture all over the front pages is," said the voice, this time with a hiss of scornful amusement. "Contract accepted is. Money to you will be delivered when she captured is."

The attention began to draw away from him, but he found some strength in him for a "Wait."

"For what?" came that voice, and now accompanied by displeasure.

"H-H-How much money will you give me for her?"

The voice hissed. "Fifty thousand U.S. dollars."

"How will it be delivered?"

"Too many questions ask you," the voice had a hint of menace. "By mail, it will."

"You do not have my address."

The voice hissed, in amusement this time. "Think you we know not who you are? Senator, you were, brought low by scandal. And mutant you are, and far from innocent. The Shadowman, considering has been, bringing you captive into the fold. Not now, as you a greater gift than your small talent are bringing."

"One more thing," Ryan said.

The voice growled. It was a sound out of a nightmares, but Ryan stood firm. "One last, only," it hissed.

"If what you plan on doing to her will hurt her, can I watch?" He could barely restrain himself from licking his lips. Sara screaming in agony by his doing, just as she thought she was beyond his reach…oh, that would be sweet. He could live the rest of his life if he could know she died in pain and knew it was his doing.

The voice was silent for the longest time, and then it spoke again. "Watch you wish, when use her we do?"

"Yes," he said, getting excited.

"Interesting you are," the voice said at last, thoughtfully. "Most informants uneasy are, when here are coming to information give, and not wishing they are of knowing what is to happen. Total strangers are they and yet still not desirous of knowing the future they are. Strange, you are. Follow the light, and to the Shadowman will you be brought."

The spotlight winked out over him, and a smaller, less bright series of lights came on, illuminating a set of steel steps going up into darkness. He mounted them in trepidation, and followed the tall, hulking black-cloaked figure down a narrow catwalk, coming out at last into a small but brightly-lit office in which a figure sat at the desk. The figure stood as the hulking black cloak said, "Ryan, the former Senator. An interesting request has he."

The man faced Ryan, and at first all he could see was the dark cape that draped the figure and hooded the face. The hands came up, hands that looked human until the hood was thrown back, and Ryan discovered that those hands did not belong to anything born on this planet. 

An impressive black crest of feathers rose from what Ryan would have called a scalp if hair had grown out of it framed a face that reminded him immediately of a bird. A raptor, to be more precise, a bird of prey. Hooded eyes under fierce brows gleamed white, with narrow, slitted pupils that were nearly invisible in the milkiness of the eyes. The nose was aquiline to the extreme, looking more like a massive hooked beak. The lips were twisted in a sardonic smile.

"I will not be doing anything to you, so do not fear," said the utterly ordinary voice attached to that extraordinary face. "I heard your request. I admit, it is unusual, but I do believe I shall be able to accommodate you."

Ryan found his voice at last. "Who—what are you?"

The birdlike man paced around his office. "I am a member of a race of beings called the Shi'ar," he said. "I am what you would call here a scientist. Until recently I was a treasured member of the Majestrix Lilandra Neramani's science staff. We found an extremely rare metal on an asteroid in an asteroid belt not far form our homeworld. This metal is flexible when cooled, and indestructible so far as I could discover. I believed it would be possible to create an ultimate soldier to command the armies of the Shi'ar empire, and I sought volunteers to test my theory. The Majestrix herself took exception when the greater majority of those volunteers perished during my attempt to mold the metal to the body of the volunteers. She has exiled me from the empire. I remembered the Majestrix's human lover came from this planet, and that some of its denizens are gifted with extraordinary powers. So I brought my one success, the former prisoner Gero, to assist me in creating more like him. Gero, you see, has the ability to instantly heal himself, and despite all my efforts to succeed using another power, self-healing has been the only one that has yet worked. So the gift you have given me, that of a mutant who can heal, is a great gift, and deserving of greater reward. So, as a reward to you I shall allow you to witness my success."

Ryan could hardly believe his ears. This alien was trying to create a superhuman to lead an army of aliens! There were more of them! And the technology around the office he could see was far superior to anything Earth could boast. An image flashed into his mind; he had managed to steal a piece of technology from this alien. He hired a scientist to take it apart, discover how it worked, build more of it, patent it, and he would be rich beyond his wildest dreams. Suddenly vengeance became less important than his greed. He would come back to see his wife, but leave with the means to make himself richer than he had ever dreamed. 

He agreed to keep the alien… Shi'ar?…a secret, and went home.

Gero walked into Koven's office after the slimy disgusting little earther had gone. "Master," he said, bowing clear down to the floor in subservience, "I do not believe this is a wise move. The Earther wishes to steal our secrets, our technology. You must not allow it, Master Koven."

Koven laughed scornfully. "Do you think I could not read the little man's mind? His motives are as transparent as glass. Do not worry, Gero. His greed will be his undoing. When we have the mutant human woman, activate the security system around the lab. When he tries to leave with something other than he came in with, he will die under the lasers of the lab security. Now go, and prepare the matarium tank for its forthcoming occupant."

Gero nodded and left.

Ryan was in a much more effusive mood at the next poker game. Tony eyed him with some mixed feelings as the man prattled on about how good it would be to know Sara was out of his life forever.

"So you got in touch with the Shadowman?" he asked neutrally, keeping his eyes on the cards before him.

"Yes. And he will take this bitch off my hands. I can't wait!"

Tony left the game with a heavy heart, cursing himself for mentioning the Shadowman to Ryan. Sara didn't deserve this. In the week since the last game, Tony had read everything that he could find about her and about the divorce. From what he'd read, heard, and seen on TV, she was the wronged one in all this mess. She had done nothing wrong other than falling in love and marrying a man who didn't deserve her. He had traced the fortunes of Meredith Pharmaceuticals since she'd taken control of it, and she'd done nothing but good. The company's stock was up, and Tony's own son, jobless for quite a long time, had begun working for Meredith's supply company, and had found good work and a steady job. He was thankful for that. And now he was repaying that with what would likely be her death.

But how could he undo what he had done?


	4. Pursuit

Chapter 4: Pursuit

"Sara," Jean said absently as she sorted through the huge stack of mail and handed Sara six envelopes. Sara took them hastily as Jean handed Warren, Storm, and Rogue envelopes. "The rest are for Charles."

Sara sat at her desk and opened the first one. It was a letter from Mark, and from the sound of it he was having problems with the Shanghai branch. One of the newly-hired high-level managers had been caught embezzling funds, and the Shanghai authorities wanted her to come down and take care of it. She sighed and set that one aside. She'd talk to Mark via telephone later. She'd only been home a month, and she really didn't want to run out there again so soon.

The next one was the bill for her business credit card. She checked, and found her ticket home was on this bill. Good. She wrote one of her business checks out for the amount, sealed the envelope, and stamped it, setting it aside. She had to go into town later for more stamps; she'd drop her outgoing stuff there while she was there.

The rest were bills and business correspondence. She finally reached the last envelope, which had only her name and the mansion's address on it. She turned it over and over in her hands for a moment, looking for any other marking on it, and when she found none she opened it. Inside was a plain sheet of white paper, with letters cut out of a newspaper pasted to it. It read, waTch youR Back. The ShadOwMan is coMing foR You. It was unsigned.

"Logan!" she called as she saw her lover walk past their bedroom door. "Look at this." She shoved the letter at him.

He read it, a frown creasing his forehead as he did so. "What's it mean?" he asked her.

"I don't know," she frowned too. "I don't know anything about a Shadowman. I've never heard of him."

"Let's ask Chuck," he said. 

Xavier frowned. "I haven't heard of this Shadowman either," he said. "But it's clearly a warning. Someone wants you to be careful. Sara, I would ask, until we know what this means and who this Shadowman is, that you not go out unless you're with someone. At least two of the others, or Logan."

Sara nodded.

He opened the door to the post office and she smiled at him as she walked in. He stood there, ostensibly looking at the stamps but in reality keeping an eye out for anything unusual. He caught a movement out the corner of his eye, and growled, low and inaudibly, when he saw the two people in line behind her. One was a man in a nice-looking but not terribly expensive suit, holding a fluffy blue baby blanket. The other was a woman holding a yellow teddy bear. To anyone else, they were a couple sending a baby gift to someone who had just had a boy. To Logan, they were something else, as he caught the flash of something silver between the folds of the fluffy blue blanket. The woman took a step, and pretended to twist her heel. As she did so, she knocked up against her escort, who in turn brushed up against Sara. The silver object brushed Sara's arm.

She turned to the man, annoyed, and he said, "I'm sorry, Ma'am." And then he caught her as she collapsed. Logan began to push his way through the crowd as he lowered her to the floor, telling everyone he was a doctor. Seconds later, an ambulance pulled up outside the post office, lights flashing. 

Wolverine tossed people aside like bowling pins. He was damned if he was going to let anyone other than himself take Sara. He reached her, finally, and scooped her into his arms, turning and running for the exit. Outside, he came face to face with two burly men dressed in paramedics' uniforms. Logan knew they weren't. Paramedics didn't carry guns. He growled, low in his throat, at war with himself. He wanted to stay and fight, shred the men he was sure were agents of this mysterious Shadowman, but he had to get Sara to safety first. Her safety won out, and he ran for his pickup, dumping her on the front seat and getting into the driver's seat, then peeled out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires.

The ambulance pursued him as he sped down the road back to the mansion. If he could get there he'd be all right, but they were gaining on him. He made a desperate decision and took the turn down Hell's Road. 

The sound of shattering glass was accompanied by a familiar sting in his arm. He looked down and saw his arm bleeding sluggishly from a bullet hole in his bicep, but he didn't feel the pain for the adrenaline pumping through his body. He shot over the hill doing sixty and heeled the wheel over hard just before the turn.

The truck got around the turn with a great deal of protesting. Behind him, he heard a scream of overstressed metal, and he turned to look over his shoulder as the ambulance wiped itself out on the same tree Sara had crashed into a couple of years earlier. He sped up, turned off the road, and got back to the mansion without further incident.

Hank peeled back her eyelids, shone a light in her eyes, and pronounced, "She's just asleep. Drugged. I could get her the antidote but I think maybe she should just sleep it off." He was removing the bullet from Logan's arm when Xavier came speeding in with Storm and Betsy behind him. "Where is she? Is she all right?" he asked Hank.

Beast nodded. "She's fine, she just needs to sleep off the drug. They gave her a fairly powerful narcotic."

Logan growled. "They used some weird kinda metal thing ta give her the drugs. I ain't never seen the like before."

"Let me see, Logan." Xavier probed Logan's mind for just a moment, pulling the image of the little silver object up for him to see. He released Logan's mind, looking grim and puzzled.

"I've seen that before. Lilandra's medical staff uses those to deliver medicines to their patients. What is Shi'ar medical equipment doing in the hands of those kidnappers?"

"Kidnappers?" Hank queried.

"If they wanted her dead they would have killed her right there. No, whoever wants her wants her alive. I must send a message to Lilandra," he said flatly to Hank. Xavier turned grimly to Logan. "Whoever this Shadowman is, he wants Sara alive. If he wanted her dead she would be so. I know better than to order her to stay in the mansion, but I can tell her not to go out for anything less than an emergency. Should she have to go somewhere, please be sure she is escorted. Sara must not go out alone." Logan nodded as he left.

Hank told Logan to lie down, but he had other ideas. 'Hank," he said, pulling on his shirt, "I'm gonna go find out what the deal is with this Shadowman character. I ain't gonna let him have Sara."

Much later, he sat at the bar, nursing his drink while he listened to the small talk around him. Four bars, now, and he hadn't heard anything useful. He watched the TV behind the bartender's head. More anti-mutant stuff. He returned his attention to the drink before him.

His ears pricked as he heard a man speak behind him. "Y'ax me, dis Shadowman be doin' us all a favor," the drunk spluttered. "gettin' ridda all dis filthy mutant scum roun' 'ere. 'F I knew summun who was one I be goin' an' turnin' the mutie in too. An' fer fifty thousan' bucks, too!"

Logan stared into his glass. So that was the game. Someone with a grudge against mutants was paying a bounty for any who were turned in. Anger clouded his vision, and he gripped his glass tightly. When the fog cleared, he saw that his fist had closed around his glass and broken it, spraying cheap beer and glass all over the table. He got up abruptly, and went out. 

He approached the place where he'd left his bike, and stopped, his senses tingling. He sneaked stealthily around the abandoned telephone pole and brought his two outer claws around to pin to the pole the man he had smelled hiding there. "Tell me real quick whatcha doin' here 'for I shred ya," he snarled at the man who was frozen against the pole.

"I-I-I came to give you a warning," Tony Sciantorelli raised his arms slowly, trying not to make any sudden moves. "Your girlfriend, the Senator's ex-wife? She's been brought to the Shadowman's attention. Get her out of the country, man, get her out before he finds her. He does terrible things to mutants."

"An' how'd ya know 'bout this?" Logan's claws didn't move.

"Look, I can't say, okay? But trust me on this. My sources are the best, and she's in awful danger. If you love her, get her out of the country."

Logan pondered that for a moment, then withdrew his claws. "If I find ya in the middle o' any o' this later, yer not getting' off so easy," he growled, then sprang on his bike and drove away.

Xavier looked even more concerned as he listened to Logan's report. "I believe we will take this man's advice," he said to Sara. She looked about to protest, but subsided as she thought it through. "Sara, your passport is still valid, isn't it?" she nodded. "Then I believe you should take that trip back to Shanghai that Mr. Harmon has been asking you to do. It will leave us free to take down this threat to you before you return." Sara nodded. Xavier turned to Logan. "Did your informant give you any idea who has informed the Shadowman about Sara?"

"Richard." Sara said.

They looked at her.

"Who else?" she made a face. "Who else hates me enough to do that? Richard, of course. I'll leave this up to you to handle; I got stuff in Shanghai to take care of." She sighed. "I just hope it doesn't take six months like it did the last time." She got up. "I leave the details to you. I'm going to bed. Good night, Charles. See you in a little bit, dearling." She kissed Logan as she left.

Lilandra looked grim as Charles told her what had happened. "Charles, I am sorry," she said apologetically, "I had been meaning to call you, as you so charmingly put it, but I have been wrapped up in affairs of state for quite some time and had not gotten around to it. I should have told you."

"Told me what?" he asked her.

"Some few of our months back I was forced to exile one of our scientists who did some unconscionable experiments upon living volunteers. Koven was certain of his ability to physically change some of our people to create the perfect supreme commander for the armies of the Empire, and to that end he used a metallic element that we called metarium. It has quite similar properties to your Earth adamantium, with the added bonus that it is flexible but impenetrable at the same time. I bear some of the guilt for the deaths of his volunteers in that I allowed him to use the metalloid for his experiment. My geologists and metallurgists told me it was chancy stuff, and that it was too difficult to work with due to the extreme temperatures at which the metal must be kept. Once it has cooled it cannot be manipulated further."

"So what should you have told me?"

"Koven had only one success. A member of one of our subject races had the pecuiliar ability to heal himself when injured. Charles, it is common knowledge in the Empire that your X-Men posess such talents, and one in particular, your Wolverine, had the same ability. When Koven was exiled, he left with his research notes and his equipment intact, due to the treachery of one of my council members who supported his cause." She paused, her regal face looking rather grim, and continued, "It was a foregone conclusion that he would find some way of getting into your particular area of space, and continuing his experiments there. I had meant to inform you; perhaps your X-Men might have heard of him and could lead my Imperial guard to him. There will be no second chances for him, Charles, if my Guard find he has murdered anyone from your planet. He will be executed there."

"Am I to understand that the Imperial Guard is on its way here?"

"As we speak," she said, smiling slightly, "I am on the way, with my Guard in tow. It requires the word of the Majestrix to have him executed. I will not chance his escape; he will be executed as soon as possible. He will be stopped there, Charles. I am bringing with me some vidfeeds of the things he has done to his subjects, that you may see why I will have him killed. I know how you feel about such things." She smiled for the first time. "I shall see you, then, in about three of your days."

Xavier forced his heart not to jump out of his chest at the thought of seeing his beloved so soon. "I look forward to seeing you here shortly, then, Lilandra," he said with far more calm than he was feeling. The connection was severed shortly thereafter, and he went to bed feeling a bit more cheerful about the situation.

Sara frowned in disappointment. "I won't be able to meet her?" she pouted. Logan resisted the urge to kiss that pouting lip; if he did she would miss her flight.

"Chuck says ya can meet 'er when ya get back," he said, "We'll get in touch with ya when we got the Shadowman. In the meantime, enjoy yerself in Shanghai." And now he did kiss her as they were bending over the trunk of her Chevelle getting her worn suitcases from it. The kiss went on longer than he expected, and it was with great reluctance that they parted and he walked her into JFK's preflight terminal. If he hadn't been so focused on her he would have noticed the two utterly inconspicuous men walking behind them and carrying briefcases that seemed too light for businessmen. But he was so certain that she would be safe he didn't think to watch around them, then around her, as she checked her bags and boarded the plane. Sara herself didn't think anything of the first businessman when he sat in the seat beside her, talking on the phone, and unwrapped a piece of gum, popping into her mouth to clear her ears as the plane took off.

The businessman was cordial to her on the plane, and chatted to her quite happily about his wife and children, then when he said he owned stock in her company she began to talk to him about that. She was still chatting about that when the flight attendant brought their dinner, and was so relaxed that she never even noticed the tiny amount of powder he added to her soda. Soon after dinner she began to feel drowsy, and went to sleep, unaware of the narrow-eyed, triumphant look he was giving her back.

When the plane touched down in the airport in Shanghai, the flight attendant became concerned when she didn't wake, but was reassured when Sara's 'husband' informed her he would care for her. So she saw nothing unusual when he escorted her off the plane and into a waiting car, and really thought nothing more of it until the baggage people informed the flight captain that her luggage had not been claimed.


	5. Koven

Chapter 5: Koven

Sara awoke in incredible pain. Not pain from bodily wounds, but pain from cramped muscles and bones. She couldn't move an inch: it felt like she had been stuffed into a too-small coffin. Her knees were almost jammed into her chin, and her elbows smarted from rubbing against a rough surface. Her numb hands were tied with what felt like coarse rope in front of her knees, and there was a rag stuffed in her mouth preventing her from screaming. 

Where was she? The last thing she remembered was falling asleep on the plane to Shanghai. There had been a man sitting beside her, and they'd talked…and the last thing she remembered was eating her dinner and going to sleep.

How long had it been? Whenever she had to travel she called Logan to let him know she arrived all right. If it had been long enough, he would know she was missing by now, and he'd be looking for her. So she would have to hold out until he found her. In the meantime, maybe she could figure out where she was…

She had been outside with Logan during their vacation in the mountains, breathing in the air. Curious about his senses, she'd asked him what he smelled. For answer he'd brought out a black scarf, tied it around her eyes, and told her to tell him as much about her surroundings as she could without seeing anything.

Well, eyes in this tiny box were completely superfluous. She closed them and tried to take a breath. It was hard to breathe deeply with her knees pressed so tightly against her chest, but she did manage to get a whiff of stale air, gasoline, and sweat. As she was trying to puzzle where she would get those two smells together, the floor under her shifted, and the left side of her crate slammed against a hard vertical surface. Her elbow protested at the impact with a spike of white-hot pain, and she cried out. The gag muffled it, of course, but she jumped as she heard a rough male voice very close to her ear say, "She's awake."

The pressure of the top of the carton on the back of her head was suddenly gone and her tiny prison was flooded with light. She squinted as the sunlight temporarily blinded her, and as the spots cleared from her vision and she got used to the light, she saw a clean-shaven face she remembered from the plane. Only now there was nothing pleasant or cordial about the expression on that face; it was twisted in an expression of hatred and loathing. "Well, the little mutie freak is awake," he drawled to someone she didn't see. "How are you, little freak?"

"Carson?" she blinked. "Why are you doing this? What have I done to you?"

"My name's Ben," he said. "You didn't do anything. I work for the Shadowman. You were promised to him by--"

"Richard," Sara finished for him. "Why can't he leave me alone?" she mumbled to herself.

Ben chuckled. "You wanna be left alone? Okay, then." And the top of the crate came down, sealing her inside, and no amount of yelling or banging from her got them to open it again. 

She was bruised and in pain from her numb arms and legs when the vehicle she was in stopped. She felt the box lifted, then a period of extended jolting as whoever carried her made their way, grunting, up a set of what sounded like metal steps from the way the men's footfalls thudded on them. The crate was put down, none too gently, on a level surface, and now the top was taken off. The crate was kicked over on its side, and she rolled out. 

She lay for a moment, biting back her sobs of relief at finally being out of the horrible box. A face loomed over her, but blinded by tears she couldn't make out details. She held out her hands mutely, and the face in front of her disappeared for a moment. Seconds later, the rope on her wrists was cut, and her legs and arms unfolded finally. She cried for a long time as returning circulation drove needles of pain into her limbs. It was a long time before she could concentrate on anything but her own pain, and then the conversation started making sense.

"I told you to make sure she was not hurt!" the man who released her demanded. "The last subject you brought me could not be used for days! I do not have days, my people will be here for me at any time!"

The men laughed unpleasantly. "All you asked us to do was bring her. You didn't say what condition this one had to be in!" The second man nudged Sara in the kidneys none too gently.

Ben closed up the crate. "We want our payment," he said firmly.

"You'll get it," the man said. "Gero!"

Sara's blurry eyes picked up a huge, hulking figure coming forward. Moments later there was a sickening crunch as Ben and his friend's neck snapped. She screamed in terror as their blood splattered all over her from their ruined bodies.

"She is all right," the man spoke. She blinked, cleared her eyes and gasped in shock. This was not a man. This…well, the closest she could come was a cross between a hawk and a man. "Gero, take this one downstairs and prep her tonight. I detected an incoming transmission from the Majestrix's flagship to her human lover," he said the word human as if it left a bad taste in his mouth, "and we do not have much time. She will be here in three days. My specimen must be ready by then. Did you prep the metarium?"

"Prepped the metal almost is, Master," said another voice, a midnight, sepulchral voice that made Sara's skin crawl. "Downstairs I will take her, on the table she will be waiting."

"Good." Sara found herself picked up like a sack of potatoes and thrust over a shoulder that was lumpy in all the wrong places.

"Wait!" she cried as she was taken out of the office. "Wait! Please! What are you doing!" But there was no answer. 

She was flung down on a cold steel table and her clothing was stripped off. Curiously enough to her there was no sexual lust; he was undressing her like a child would undress a doll. She looked earnestly into the darkened hood, to the two white eyes that burned within them, and pleaded. "Please, whoever you are, let me go. I didn't do anything. Please let me go!"

The voice spoke in the hood. "Silent you will be. Fool you are, to feel not the honor given you."

"Honor?" she cried, her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach as she felt heavy leather straps being buckled around her wrists, waist, throat and ankles. "What honor is there to be tied up like a sacrifice?"

He threw the hood back, and she gasped in shock. Half this man's face was a smooth metal plate, gleaming in the light from the overhead lamps. It looked like it had been fused to the skin on the other half of his face. What that cloak hid she could only guess. "The second you will be, an army of Master's making you are in. Master's empress is coming, and pleased she will be that experiments have succeeded." He turned, and walked away, leaving her shivering there on the cold table in the chill laboratory.

Sara blinked as a hand shook her awake. She had gone numb from the cold, and had even slept a little, as impossible as it seemed. The hawkman…the Shadowman, she corrected herself…stood beside her table with his assistant beside him, and he was holding a marker. She lay still as the marker traced lines all over her body. She thought she must look like a roadmap when he was done.

"Start there," he said, pointing to a spot somewhere on her abdomen. "Remove the skin in the indicated areas. Be sure the biorestrainer is activated; we do not need her to heal the incised skin before the metal is ready. Nor do we need her alerting any stray Earthers who might be in the area with her cries." He walked away and Sara felt pain as a hot laser lanced into her skin in the indicated spot. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. She looked down in mute anguish at her body as huge swaths of skin were cut away, leaving bare the raw red flesh underneath. The laser sealed the blood vessels as it went, and she saw no blood on Gero's hands as he cut away her skin.

The pain grew worse as more of her body was skinned, until she couldn't have made a sound even if she hadn't been prevented. Then the Shadowman brought a container full of something that boiled and bubbled, and began to pour it into the gaping holes in her skin as Gero disappeared. Sara felt pain like she'd never experienced before, pain as if everything Richard had ever done to her was multiplied tenfold, and mercifully blacked out.

Above the table, Richard Ryan stared down at the table with his ex-wife on it, feeling vaguely revolted. "What does he think he's doing?" he whined petulantly at the tall cloaked figure who joined him on the catwalk. "He looks like he's making her invulnerable."

"Silent you will be, fool," Gero thundered at him. "Master will do what is necessary for the experiment to be completed."

"But it's not right!" Ryan whined. "He's supposed to kill her!"

Below them Koven sighed. "Gero, I am tired of this Earthman's whining," he said. "Get rid of him, please."

Ryan didn't even have time to scream as Gero's massive metal fist crushed his throat and killed him.

Logan poked his head into the kitchen. "Jean, Sara hasn't called yet, has she?" he asked her.

Jean looked up in surprise. "Why, no, she hasn't," she blinked at the kitchen clock. "She should have landed a while ago, right?"

"Yes," he said, "and I have a bad feeling about this. Where's Chuck?"

Jean's eyes went unfocused for a moment. "He's in the Danger Room watching Storm."

Logan entered the observation room. "Chuck?"

Xavier looked up. "Yes, Logan?"

"Sara hasn't called yet. I'm a bit worried."

Xavier looked at his watch and got suddenly alarmed. "She should have landed hours ago," he said, turning his hoverchair quickly. "I will call her office immediately."

Worry turned to panic as Harmon confirmed she hadn't arrived. "She hasn't gotten to Shanghai," he reported to the X-Men grimly once they were assembled in the War Room. "Harmon doesn't know where she is."

Storm said in alarm, "Logan, when this man stopped you in the parking lot of that bar, did he say where the Shadowman was?"

"No," Logan ground his teeth. 

Xavier spoke. "We need to find her, as quickly as possible. Storm; take Rogue, Jean and Betsy with you to Ryan's house. See if you can confirm whether he did betray her to the Shadowman or not, and if he did, where we can find him. Logan, Scott, Warren, Remy, return to that bar where Logan first met his informant and see if you can track him down."

Storm pulled up in front of Ryan's house and shut off the engine. Jean probed the house with her telepathy, looking puzzled. "I can't pick up anyone inside," she frowned. " Let's go."

Rogue and Betsy crept up to the living room window as Storm and Jean followed. All was dark inside. There was no sound, but they all smelled the thick stench of blood. Jean eased the window up and they climbed inside. Betsy was the first to reach a light switch, and flicked it.

The room flooded with light, and Jean had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from gagging. The former Senator Ryan lay on the carpet of the living room—or rather, his body lay on the floor. His head sat grotesquely on the top of his coffee table, looking mildly surprised at finding himself dead. Partly coagulated blood coated the table, spreading outward from the stump of neck left attached to the head.

Rogue made gagging noises, and her shoulders heaved. Storm was frozen in place, looking sick. Betsy surveyed the scene with detached interest, and Jean thought rather weakly that this was nothing new to an assassin. 

It took some time for them all to notice that the stains on the carpet weren't all random. Someone had written on the carpet, with Ryan's blood, "Beware the Shadowman." Jean shook her head. "We're not going to find any answers here," she said. They turned to leave. 

Betsy said, "Wait." She crossed the room, being careful not to step on anything, and picked up, from a section of carpet near the door, a single black feather. She brought it back for them to look at. "A Shi'ar crest feather," she said. "Charles said Lilandra's exile was coming here. I guess we know who the Shadowman is now."

The guys entered the bar, and other patrons cleared the way. Normally Gambit would have liked to flirt with the girls, especially that cute brunette sitting over at an end table, but he told himself firmly that there was a time and a place for that, and now was neither. Sara was in trouble, and they had to find her first.

Logan marched up to the bar, and didn't waste time mincing words. "I'm lookin' fer a guy named Tony," he growled at the bartender. "Ya seen 'im anywhere recently?"

The bartender looked nervous. "Uh, I, uh, no, I haven't," he said, but he smelled so strongly of fear Logan's lips curled in disgust. He reached over the bar and grabbed a handful of the guy's shirt, hauling him bodily over the bar. The entire place froze. "Truth, bub," Logan rumbled. 

"He was here earlier," the man spluttered. Logan felt a grim satisfaction. This man scared easy. Lucky this was the place he'd met Tony. "He got a loft down 43rd, over his bike shop. Check there."

Logan dropped him and turned, stalking out of the bar. He and Remy got into his pickup; Scott and Warren followed in Scott's Mustang.

The sign said, "Tony's Shop'. Just that, and nothing more. Nothing ostentatious. Nothing really extraordinary. But as Logan got out of his pickup, he smelled blood. He took a deep sniff. "Smell that, Cajun?" he snarled.

"Ah _oui_, mon ami," Gambit whispered back, keeping his voice low as they started to ascend the steps to the loft. Scott and Warren waited by the car, ready to head off any trouble that might approach from the street. "Dis don' look good. Don' smell good, neit'er. Gambit don' like dis," but he followed Logan anyway, and used his kinetics to blow a tiny hole in the lock on the door. Logan counted to three, silently, in his head, knowing his teammate was doing the same, then spun and kicked the door in.

The smell of blood was very strong in here. Gambit flicked the light switch by the door and they both saw Tony lying on the floor, bleeding from a nasty gaping hole in his head. It was supposed to kill him, but the two X-Men had gotten there apparently just behind Tony's assailant. He was still alive, though just barely.

Logan's bellow of frustration filled the night, and Scott and Warren took the steps two at a time. Scott took one look at the man on the floor and knew this was Logan's informant. He turned to Warren. "Fly him back to the mansion," he said tersely. "Hank should be able to keep him alive long enough for Charles to pull the Shadowman's location from his mind."

The two teams gathered in the War Room, waiting in tense silence for Charles to appear. Each told the other the tale of their excursions, and Betsy showed the guys the black crest feather. "Its one of the Shi'ar's, all right," Scott said grimly. "Apparently the Majestrix's hunch was correct. That exiled scientist did come here. But how did he manage to decapitate Ryan? None of the Shi'ar we've ever seen has that kind of strength."

Xavier floated his hoverchair into the room, looking pale and drawn. From the look on his face, they all knew it wasn't good news. "I tried," he said without preamble. "His brain is too badly damaged for me to pick up anything coherent from it. He is, for all intents and purposes, dead, but I asked Hank to try to keep him alive until Lilandra arrives. Possibly she might have some technology that we don't that would enable us to get what we need from his mind. In the meantime, I don't know what else we can do."


	6. Deathstar

Chapter 6: Deathstar

"Lilandra," Charles welcomed the Majestrix of the Shi'ar Empire with a warm and heartfelt—if wan—smile. She leaned over his hoverchair and gave him a very empresslike hug that had a wealth of feeling behind it. Charles rather suspected when the immediate business was concluded those feelings would find an outlet he would appreciate. For now, however, as she pulled away from him and took in his worried expression, she put those personal feelings aside for a more pressing matter.

"Have things indeed gotten so much worse, then, Charles?" She asked as they turned to go into the mansion. Behind them, Storm dispelled the thick fog that she had called up to cover the Shi'ar's craft's approach into their airspace. The craft itself, an aesthetically pleasing gleaming silver piece of technology, was now safely stowed away in the hanger that housed the Blackbird, the X-Men's own craft having been telekinetically moved over to allow the much larger craft into its own usual berth. It sat over by the wall now, looking rather outclassed by the much superior silver craft, and Scott looked rather wistfully at the new spaceship before closing the door.

They went directly down to the War Room, all of them; Charles, Lilandra, the X-Men, and the members of the imperial guard, who needed no introductions. They had all met before, having, at various points in the past, been allies and also occasional enemies. Gladiator, Flashfire, Quake, Nightside, Electron, Sibyl, Mentor, and Commando, by name. They all sat around the great round table in the center of the room As Xavier briefed Lilandra on the events of the last four days a ripple of unease started with Gladiator and ran around the table.

"The man is still alive, Lilandra, but just barely," he finished grimly. "By all our definitions he is dead. I don't hold out much hope, but perhaps you have some way of extracting information which we don't."

Lilandra shook her head. 'As advanced as our technology is, Charles," she murmured, "There are some things that even it cannot do, and this is one of them. You may as well release him from the life support and allow him peace, for what you ask is not possible."

Charles deflated visibly even as Logan inflated in anger. "If there ain't nothin' ya can do with all yer fancy machines, then I'll go do it the way I wanted ta, Chuck!" he bellowed. "I'll go an' rip this town apart an' blow up every buildin' if I haveta!"

"Be sensible, Logan!" Charles snapped. "She may not even be in this town. The flight attendant said she disembarked in Shanghai. What if she never left? What if she's there? What if they took her off the plane at a different stopover? Where will you begin, Logan? You can't search the entire world!"

"Perhaps he cannot," Lilandra spoke, "but I can. My ship is in orbit, Charles, with my 'entourage' as you put it. They can scan the planet's surface in less than one of your days, and if Koven is on this planet we will know."

Charles looked at Lilandra with relief. "I was hoping you'd have an idea," he said. "We seem to be fresh out. If you could, please do. Time is of the essence; Sara's been missing for five days now, and we're worried."

"It will be done." Lilandra took out a small instrument that looked rather like an extremely tiny cell phone and spoke into it, turning away from the others as she did so. The averted their eyes in respect for her privacy. Shortly afterward, she turned back to them. "My ship has begun to scan your planet, Charles, but even that will take several hours. As I think we will be here for at least the night, if not a week, my guard will want to see what sort of sleeping arrangements will be made for us and for me."

"Of course," Charles said. "If you will come with me, please," and he led the way out of the room and out of the lower levels to the living quarters in the mansion.

The largest rooms in the mansion were Charles's room and the one assigned to Jean and Scott. The Majestrix would be entitled to the larger ones simply by virtue of her rank, so Jean and Scott had volunteered to move into one of the smaller guest rooms for the duration of her visit. Rogue and Storm also moved, so that entire wing might be available for the Imperial Guard. Storm and Rogue were now sharing a room, and Betsy had chosen to move into Sara's old room for a time. Nothing was said to Lilandra about it, but apparently she guessed that some rearranging had been necessary and thanked them all graciously. They were all worried, and chose to go to bed early.

Betsy woke suddenly, and sat up in bed. Some slight but insistent sound had woken her. After a moment she heard it again; the slight rattling under the bed. Puzzled, she got out of bed and peeked underneath.

The steel box under the bed was vibrating slightly, and a weird violet glow was coming from under its lid. She pulled it out, opened it.

Inside the box Sara's sword was glowing. The blade was almost too bright to look at, and the odd purple stone in its hilt was flickering with an inner fire. She reached out to touch it, hesitantly, and suddenly the purple fire enveloped her, and a deep, masculine voice spoke into her mind.

: Greetings, friend.:

"Who are you?" she whispered. "What are you?"

: I am Chang. I made the sword you hold now in your hand. I made it for the last of the Emperors; I was proud of it, so proud that I wished to keep it for myself. My emperor was displeased, and as punishment for my pride I was bound into the sword until it should break, and upon my Emperor's death was given unto the keeping of the monastery he grew up in. I was only to be released into the world in times of great need. This is one of those times.:

"You mean Sara?" Betsy asked.

: The black bird from the stars threatens not only her but also this entire world. She is the only one who can save it, and you cannot save her but with my help.: The sword was silent for a time, then spoke again. : Know this; the one you seek has but two beings in his army. Two are now one; if you can get me to the Chosen there will be two again. And one will stand against the other, and in the division will be our salvation. But I **MUST** be with my Chosen to make this happen. When you go to find her you must take me with you, and give me into her hands. She needs me even now; I feel her soulstone pull to mine, bound as she is by compulsions not of her choosing. She was well Chosen; her will is stronger than that of her compatriot. He has been twisted into a creature of such evil he is beyond redemption. She is not yet beyond my reach. I beg of you, take me with you when you go to her!:

Betsy came down to the breakfast table somewhat bemused, carrying the silk-wrapped sheathed sword, and repeated her story. As she did, Lilandra, out of curiosity, pulled aside the wrappings to reveal the sword. She stared frozen for a full moment, then turned to Betsy, full of anger. "Where was this found?" she cried.

It took a moment for Betsy to find her voice. "Sara herself brought it with her from China when she was there on business," she told Lilandra. "She said some monk had given it to her with instructions to use it well and return it upon the completion of its mission."

"How long has it been here?" Lilandra hissed.

Xavier spoke then, puzzled. "I do not see what it is about it that has you so uneasy—" he began.

Lilandra collected herself with an effort. "Charles, the stone on the hilt of that sword is what we call a soulstone. Its particular crystalline structure enables it to convert matter into energy, and hold that energy fast. For the Shi'ar with power that was too great for the body holding it, it was a convenient receptacle for power. Long ago, we used them as jewelry because its abilities were useful. Then we found that the stones captured the essence of its wearer even after the wearer's physical death. The stones were forbidden to all, and the ones currently being worn were destroyed to release the souls held within them. Then the planet we found them on, a remote corner of the Throneworld's home galaxy, was destroyed in a major cataclysm. Very few soulstones still survive, and we thought we had all of them in our royal treasury. It appears we missed a few," she said, turning to the stone.

: It has been here for some time,: the sword spoke into all their minds now. : The stone was one of the jewels of my emperor. He never wore it except for ceremonial occasions. He had it split into two smaller gems. Several centuries after I was bound into one, I discovered that the other half had been set into some silly jewelry or other. I did not see it again until I felt it around Sara's throat.:

"The jewel in Sara's necklace!" Jean exclaimed. "That's a soulstone?" 

: Yes,: the sword replied. : Now please can we go and find her?:

"You know where she is?" Charles exclaimed.

: I can feel the other stone,: the sword said.

"Charles," Lilandra said quickly, "I will return to my flagship. Take this," and she handed to Scott the small device she had used to call her ship before, "and signal my guard when you have reached them. They will take care of Koven and his creations, and you will be free to rescue your friend."

"His creations? Lilandra, what if Sara has become one of them?"

Lilandra looked long and hard at Xavier, and her expression was not a pleasant one. "Charles, any of his creations is likely to be tainted by his evil. If she has become one of his experiments, death will be the kindest thing to do for her."

"I cannot accept that," Xavier snapped tersely. "However, this is not the time to argue. We shall decide what to do when she is found."

Logan and Betsy led the way down the slippery, rain-slick pavement to the alley behind the warehouse. Betsy held Sara's sword, unsheathed and ready before her, and Logan followed slightly behind her, sniffing for any scent of danger. She jerked her head up toward the roof, and Storm, Rogue, and Warren flew up there, to the skylight that every warehouse seemed to have. Jean lifted herself up after them. Wolverine, Psylocke, Gambit, and Scott went in the conventional way.

The warehouse was dark, and their footsteps echoed hollowly in the empty spaces. "Where is everyone?" Scott whispered to Betsy, who was probing the warehouse for any psychic signatures.

"One in front of us, coming closer," she whispered, "and two above us, I think on a suspended catwalk. Funny; I can only sense their presence; I can't tell who it is…"

"Well, well," said a voice, and suddenly the warehouse floor was flooded with light, thought the ceiling above them was still in darkness. Behind his back, Scott switched on the communications device that would inform the Imperial Guard of where they were. "The X-Men. I didn't anticipate you finding us so quickly." A Shi'ar male descended the steps, to stand at the foot of them, well out of range of anything the X-Men might choose to throw at him. "But it is just as well. I assume the Imperial Guard is coming. Good. They shall be an adequate test of my two creations." He looked up, and the X-Men followed his gaze up. 

There was a crash, and Storm's body came hurtling down through a hole in the roof, out of control. She was almost to the floor when she managed to pull out of the dive. She hovered a foot above the floor, looking stunned, and the other X-Men gasped as Rogue and Warren were slammed through the roof as well. Jean fell through the air too fast for Storm to catch, and she fell into Scott so hard she knocked both of them to the floor. Scott gasped for a moment, the breath knocked out of him, before they all looked up again.

Two figures floated down toward the floor; one a huge, burly Shi'ar male with what looked like half his crest missing. Koven touched a remote control he held in his hand, and the entire warehouse became brightly lit. They stood still, speechless, as they saw him. Half of his head was a gleaming metal plate; it looked like a part of his face, and moved like skin. He wore only a skimpy red loincloth held on by a thick belt that had one of the Shi'ar's energy weapons holstered in it. Huge swathes of metal covered sixty percent of his body, and what little was not covered by the metal was impressively muscled. The X-Men spared a brief glance, took in his appearance, but focused on his companion.

It was Sara. But how changed! She looked like her companion, wearing a skimpy V-shaped scarlet top that fell to a calf-length skirt, slit all the way up the side to expose her hip. But where nothing but pale skin should be, there was a latticework of the same metal that patterned the man's body. It covered a great deal of her body, and the right half of her face was the same metal. The eye in that half of her face was a glaring, milky white, with a single black slitted pupil in the center. The other eye, in the normal half of her face, was its usual vivid violet. It was grotesque, and they stared in horrified silence. 

Logan was the first to break the stunned silence. "What have ya _done_ ta her?" he croaked weakly, staring at the being that had once been his lover.

Koven laughed; a harsh, maniacal sound that held a hint of madness in it. "She and Gero here are the new commanders of the Shi'ar Imperial Army. That metal I bonded to their skins is impenetrable as far as Shi'ar scientists could discover; at the same time it is flexible and indestructible. Behold my success! This is Hellguard and Deathstar!"

"Your success is your death, Koven!" came a voice from the door. The members of the Imperial Guard entered the warehouse, followed by Lilandra and Xavier. Xavier stared in mute horror at the creature that was once the lovely young doctor he knew, and at the grotesque parody of a Shi'ar male beside her. Sara—Deathstar—drew the sword from the sheath she wore at her hip, and stepped before Koven. "My Guard, We," she used the royal pronoun, "the Majestrix of the Shi'ar Empire, do now decree that the citizen known as Koven is now a traitor to the same empire. He has disobeyed Our direct and incontestible order that such experiments should not proceed, and has cost the lives of many of Our ally's people. For this crime of disobedience and treason, he is so bound over to you for execution." She paused, and deliberately did not meet Xavier's and the X-Men's eyes as she continued. "As their continued existence is a direct threat to both the Throneworld and this planet, his creations, Hellguard and Deathstar, also known as Gero of the planet Axiel, and Sara Michaels of the planet Earth, are hereby also bound over to the Guard for execution."

The X-Men gasped, and Charles did as well. "Lilandra, no!" he cried. "They have done nothing to warrant death! It is no fault of either of them that Koven has made them what they are! Do not condemn them!"

Lilandra turned to Charles, and her eyes held no warmth, only steel and ice. "Charles, Hellguard has killed other people on other planets at Koven's behest. Before he became what he is, he was also facing prosecution for the death of several innocent Shi'ar children. He is nothing less than a murderer, Charles, and he will die for it."

"Not Sara!" Xavier almost pleaded with her. "She is not one of your citizens; she has done nothing to you or yours! Let us have her! She is our friend!"

"She is his creature, Charles, Lilandra said, sadness in her voice. "Left alone she will continue what he has begun. He has done to her what he has done to Hellguard; taken away the mind and forced the body to obey him. No, it must be this way, Charles. Go, Gladiator." The Imperial Guard moved to obey.

Hellguard drew his energy weapon, and both he and Deathstar took up positions before Koven. "You will not touch Master!" Deathstar screamed defiantly, and swung at Gladiator. He, Nightside, and Flashfire moved in to battle Deathstar, and the others moved in to engage Hellguard. Xavier motioned the X-Men to move in. **Do not hurt her,** he told them, indicating Sara. **Immobilize her, catch her, but do not harm her. If we can break her free of Koven's influence I may yet be able to persuade Lilandra to spare her.**

Hellguard shot off energy blasts; Deathstar swung like one possessed. The battle raged on for a while until Gladiator called to his people, "Halt! Regroup!" the Guard retreated a short distance, to eye the two defendants warily.

Betsy stepped forward, her own sword sheathed, holding Chang unsheathed across her hands. "Sara," she said, her voice low and non-threatening. "Sara, you're still in there, I know you are. You haven't been changed for that long that you don't remember us. Remember this? Chang? He is yours, Sara. Take him." She withdrew her hands, stepped back, letting the sword hover in the air.

There was a startled movement from Deathstar as she heard the name Sara called. The white eye flashed in anger, but the violet one looked at Betsy, and there was a look of dawning recognition, of hope. "Betsy?" said Sara's voice, and it was Sara's voice, as unlike Deathstar's discordant shriek as it could be. "Betsy, help me, please, I don't--" and her body jerked. They looked past her, to where Koven was, and he was holding a small black box in his hands. Sara jerked again, doubled over clutching her middle, and dropped to the floor, screaming in pain.

Logan rushed past Betsy, snatching Chang out of the air as he sprinted past her. He stumbled to his knees beside her, shoving Chang into her hands as she lay there, then stood in front of her, facing both the Guard, Hellguard, and Koven, protecting her. She ceased struggling as the soulstone in the hilt of the sword and its matching half around her throat flared to life, bathing her in a violet glow. She stiffened.


	7. Majestrix's Justice

Chapter 7: Majestrix's Justice

Images flashed into Sara's mind; images of her childhood, spent in a variety of military bases; her father's betrayal of her, her husband's abuse of her, and her meeting with the X-Men. Then happier memories; working with Scott and Warren on her Chevelle; fighting alongside them against their enemies; working with Xavier and his attorneys on her divorce. Her ownership of Meredith, then the long lonely months of traveling while she got her company back on its feet. That incredible day she got Chang, the subsequent testing that Charles insisted she go through to determine the extent of the sword's abilities, and, in a rush of awareness, the procedure she had endured in the lab. 

Her mind took over there, filled in the intervening four days, and Chang saw clearly the operation that had planted tiny metal devices in her abdomen and in her brain to control her. The small near-microscopic metal thing injected into the base of her skull beside her spine controlled her mind; and when she didn't obey immediately, the other device in her abdomen, about the size of a double A battery, sent incredibly painful cramps to her stomach and intestines. Sara could fight the mental chip, but the agonizing pain in her abdomen had broken her in a day. She had become almost an automaton in carrying out Koven's orders.

Chang realized that if he were to save her, that device would have to come out. Silently apologizing for what he was about to do, he took control of her body.

The watching people gasped as Chang slid smoothly into Deathstar's body just below her navel. Blood gushed, and along with it came a black cylinder about two inches long. She curled over, gasping as her body started to heal, and moments later when the skin's surface was healed she looked up at the X-Men with a clear eye. She rose smoothly to her feet and took up Chang.

Koven gaped at her for a moment and then swore, long and eloquently, in the common Shi'ar tongue. "Hellguard!" he rasped. "She's freed herself of my conditioner! Kill her!"

Gero drew his gun and fired off an energy blast that if it had struck Sara would have killed her. Chang rose into the air, a glowing blue-white arc, and the bolt bounced off the blade and ricocheted off into the darkness at the rear of the warehouse. They began to fight, coming together in a flash and dazzle of blue-white sword and red energy bolts. Chang was giving Sara incredible stamina and speed, and she was keeping pace with Gero easily, a pace that would have killed her if she hadn't had Chang. 

For nearly a half an hour they fought thus. When the energy weapon ran out of charge, the X-Men thought he would give up. Instead he threw himself at Sara as fast as he could, overpowering her by sheer virtue of his superior mass and speed, and she fell over backward, Chang clattering to the floor somewhere behind her. They rolled on the floor, grappling with each other, and in an unlucky moment Hellguard slipped his hands under hers and wrapped his fists around her neck. She choked, gasped for air, spluttered in rage, as he pushed her inexorably backward. He couldn't crush her neck, but if he cut off her air long enough, she would black out, and probably be out long enough for him to deal her a fatal injury that she wouldn't be able to heal before it killed her. Koven had taught him what her weak points were, so if it came down to one against the other, he would know how to kill her.

But he had done the same for her. She knew where Hellguard was most vulnerable, and she brought up her hands, now, with the last of her strength, and jammed her fingers up to her knuckles into his eyes. He screeched, like a dying vulture, and stumbled backward as she uncurled from the floor and picked Chang up from the corner. For a moment she crouched there, watching Hellguard flail about helplessly. "Master, see I cannot!" he cried. "Help!"

Koven looked at Sara, looked at Gero, looked at her again, noting this time the glint in her eye, and decided to save himself. He turned and ran. 

Gero never saw the blue-white sword descend on the half of his head that was not covered by the silver metal. As his body crumpled to the floor there was a mildly surprised look on the metal half of his face.

Sara sprang past her fallen enemy with a snarl of anger and ran after Koven. She backed him into a corner, raised her sword, and brought it down in a fast, wicked slash. Koven shrieked. She slashed again, and again, and again, as Xavier, Lilandra, the X-Men, and the Imperial Guard watched in stunned silence her bloodthirsty fury. She finally fell to her knees, spent, in the middle of the puddle of blood on the floor, and buried her face in her bloody hands, weeping. 

Wolverine broke himself out of his shock and ran to her. She sagged into his arms, dampening his uniform with her tears. "Oh God, Logan," she whispered brokenly, "I thought I'd never see you again…I love you so much…"

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as she shook with sobs.

Lilandra stirred herself at last. "Charles, this shows you just how dangerous she is. She will have to be taken into Shi'ar custody, though I regret having to answer your friendship with such pain."

Charles gawked at her, as did the rest of the X-Men. "Lilandra, she just killed Hellguard and Koven! She saved us…she saved our world! Yet you still want to kill her?"

"Charles," Lilandra said, struggling to keep her temper, "She just killed an unarmed man who was a citizen of my Empire. She is a murderer. What if she kills someone on your planet next? What will you do then?"

"You condemned him to death!" Charles exclaimed. "You exiled him, banished him, and ordered his death! She did your Guard a favor. They couldn't kill him! Now they'll kill her! Lilandra, I love you, but I cannot allow this!"

Sara stood, pushing away from Logan, and walked over to the two of them. She fell to her knees before the Majestrix and held out her hands, palms up. "I am placing myself into your custody," she said, her voice quivering slightly. "Do with me as your laws require."

"Sara!" Logan cried, his voice breaking. Xavier and the others looked equally aghast.

"Sara, don't, we won't let it happen--" Jean began.

She looked at them with tears in her eyes. "Koven planted two controlling devices inside me," she said. "One was designed to cause incredible pain whenever I disobeyed him; when I stabbed myself it came out. The other is a chip injected into the base of my skull here," she tapped the nape of her neck, "that he programmed with orders to conquer this world for the Majestrix, and to protect him. I am to kill anyone who threatens him. It has not yet 'realized' that he is gone; I don't know what will happen when it does. I don't want to kill anyone else, Charles! 

"My guess was correct; my ex-husband sold me to him for fifty thousand dollars. After Koven bonded the metal to my skin Hellguard took me to Richard's house. Richard just lay there, he didn't try to defend himself or talk me out of anything. I killed him. I killed him in cold blood. No matter what he did to me, how much he hurt me, I shouldn't have done what I did. This chip in my head makes me want to kill. I enjoyed killing Richard and Koven. I can't allow myself to kill again, Charles. Please, Majestrix," she said to Lilandra, "do what you have to do."

Lilandra looked narrow-eyed at her. "There is a controlling device inside you?"

"Yes," Sara whispered.

"Empress, if I may?" Gladiator put in. She nodded to him. "Empress, if there is indeed a device inside her, controlling her, then she is not responsible for the actions done while she was Deathstar," he said speculatively. "If the chip is removed I believe she will no longer be a threat to anyone. She is not, if I am correct in thinking so, a career criminal like Gero."

"She isn't," Charles said instantly. "Lilandra, Sara had ample reason to want her husband dead. He abused her, hurt her and tortured her during the two years she was married to him. In all that time, she never once lifted a hand toward him, or tried to kill him, though no one would have faulted her if she had. She's not a born killer. She is a doctor, and as such she is sworn to preserve life."

"Then," Lilandra said, "if this chip can be extracted and a promise given that she will never kill another, I see no reason why she cannot be released to you, Charles. But in the meantime, to protect others, I must insist that she be placed in custody."

Sara suddenly jerked in anguish. "It…knows…" she got out through gritted teeth. "It…knows Koven is dead…It wants me to avenge his death. Stop me. Please!" 

Gladiator and Cyclops moved together, Cyclops to hold her arms behind her and Gladiator to place energy bindings around her wrists Deathstar raged and shrieked, plunging against the restraints and the two men who held her. "Kill you all!" she spat, hatred dripping from a voice so unlike Sara's they knew that what she'd said was true. Something was possessing her. "You killed Master! You will die! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"

It took three of the Guard to get her down to the holding cells below the mansion, and as soon as they put her down on the bed inside she sprang up out of it, cursing. It required three tries before they managed to get out of the cell, leaving her in it, secured by the forcefield. She raged, she swore, she cursed, she screamed, but after the first time she tried the forcefield and it knocked her back into the opposite wall, she did not dare approach it again. As she paced inside, Hank lugged all the diagnostic equipment he could carry to the room outside her cell and ran every scan he could think of.

He showed them an X-ray of Sara's skull. Bone and flesh and brain showed as a mass of variantly shaded grey. In the center of it, at the base of her skull and perilously close to her brainstem, a small object glowed whitely. "It's terribly close to her brainstem," he said, "and I don't want to open her head and do it. I decided to try to use a jolt of electricity to try to short it out. The problem will be to do it quickly."

"Why quickly?" Xavier asked.

"Look at this," he indicated a screen to Charles that showed them her brainwaves. "There are two separate brainwave patterns; one is Deathstar's, and this one is Sara's. Note Sara's brainwaves are dimming. We're starting to lose her, Charles. If she is subsumed long enough by Deathstar, we will lose her completely. We have to do it, and quickly."

Xavier paled. "How soon can you be ready?" he asked.

"In an hour," Hank said. "But I have to do it in the lab."

"I'll get the guys," Jean said quickly.

Gladiator helped Scott, Warren, and Logan to get her out of the cell and upstairs to the medical lab. She screamed at them all, cursing them, and it took a great while for them to get her secured to the table. Logan winced at the sight of her lunging against the restraints, and left as Cyclops began to strap her forehead and chin down.

Xavier was watching from the observation room, eyes bright with tears. Jean dropped a hand down on his shoulders in silent empathy. They hated seeing her like this. The sooner the operation was over the better.

Things quieted down somewhat when Hank gave her an injection that would put her to sleep. He placed small flat electrodes all over the parts of her head that weren't covered by the metal, turned on the bit of Shi'ar technology that would allow him to see what he was doing in her head.

It took only ten minutes for the electrical current to build up to what Hank considered as much voltage as he could safely use this close to her brain. He sent the voltage sizzling into her brain via the wires, and watched as the small chip sizzled briefly. Sara jerked once, and was still. He took off the electrodes and said, "Now we wait. We'll know when she wakes up if it's her or if its Deathstar."

They all sat down to wait.


	8. The Metara

Chapter 8: The Metara

_Home…_

Sara woke, freezing cold, with a huge headache. She tried to raise her hand, and found she couldn't. She lifted her head and looked down; her wrists were strapped down. For a moment she thought she was back inside the warehouse, but the table beneath her was padded, and while not the most comfortable thing to lie on in the world, it didn't feel like the warehouse. The light was too bright, and hurt her eyes, so she lay back for a moment, feeling her head throb, and moaned, "Logan…where are you, God I need you…"

Hands were at her wrists, unfastening the straps, and she opened her eyes again as she was pulled tightly into his embrace. "Sara," he breathed into her hair raggedly, "Oh god, Sara. I missed ya so much, darlin'. Don't do that again."

"No. I won't. I promise." She hugged him back with all the feeling in her heart as the watching X-Men cheered.

Lilandra and Charles shared the two seats at the head of the table in the War Room. The Guard sat at one side of the table, the X-Men at the other, and Sara, as the accused, sat at the end of the table, Logan beside her. Lilandra spoke first.

"We came here to execute a traitor and his two assassins. The traitor is dead, and the assassin is dead, and both at your hands, Sara Michaels of Earth. This, the murder of two souls, whether deserved or not, would normally guarantee that you also face execution, if not at Our hands, then at the hands of Our Guard. However, extenuating circumstances have forced Us to take another look at the events of the past three days. We have, therefore, decided to commute your sentence." She took a breath, and continued. "Knowing that you were under the influence, or as Our friend Charles Xavier has put it, the 'possession' of an outside being, We find now that you were not responsible for what happened while you were possessed by the being known as Deathstar. Therefore, you are released, with our apologies." She held up a hand to halt everyone's movement. "We require only that you give us your word, your promise, that you will never again take another life."

Sara went pale. "Majestrix, I'm sorry, I can't promise that," she murmured. A ripple of shock went around the table, and Gladiator drew his energy blaster. "I am sorry for what I did, Lilandra," she continued. "I will carry the guilt for my husband's death for the rest of my life. No matter what he may have done to me, he didn't deserve for me to kill him the way I did." She blushed in shame as she stared at the table. "But I can't promise I _will never kill_ again. I am a member of the X-Men. We have all taken an oath to protect the people of this world, and each other. If one of my teammates or an innocent is about to be killed, and I am in a position to stop it, I will kill the one threatening that person. I can't guarantee that that won't happen, Majestrix. And even if I resigned from the X-Men, this planet is still a dangerous one. I may still have to kill someone in self- defense."

Lilandra looked taken aback. "I hadn't thought of that," she blinked. "All right then. I want your word that you will not kill _except in self- defense or in defense of another._ Can you do that?"

Sara's smile was radiant. "Yes, Majestrix, I can," she smiled. 

_Home…_

Sara turned over restlessly in her sleep.

__

Want to go home…

The voices were insistent, invading the deep, dreamless sleep she needed so badly.

__

Take us home.

"No," she murmured in her sleep. "No, I am home."

Logan woke up as he heard the low whisper beside him. He turned over and looked at Sara. It had been a long day, with the hearing and all. Moonlight entered the window, picking up the gleam of silver metal lacing what little of her skin could be seen under the thick blanket she had wrapped herself in. Her contact lens was sitting in its container on her bedside table.

Her white eye drove her crazy. It unnerved the others too. Hank had made a contact lens for her to wear; it had a violet iris and dark pupil on it. It looked like her other eye, and when she put it on, even Logan had felt much better. She looked a little more normal, though it was hard to ignore the silver plating covering half her body. It wasn't that unusual, to them; Colossus' body virtually turned to metal when he transformed to his invulnerable state. Cable had a cybernetic arm. And Husk, up in Snow Valley with the rest of the youngsters, including Jubilee, was able to turn her skin into anything she wanted to turn it into. They had just gotten used to…_no_, Logan corrected himself, _I'm used to feeling her bare skin sliding under my hands when…_

Another sound snapped him out of his reverie, and he looked down at his sleeping lover as she whispered in her sleep, "Leave me alone, please, leave me alone, I can't, I don't know where your home is."

He touched her shoulder gently, then realized it was smooth metal and she had no nerves to feel on the metal. As he looked down to find a patch of clear skin, he could have sworn the surface of the metal shimmered a little. Thinking it was just a trick of the light, he touched her actual skin and woke her from her nightmare gently. She turned to him, smiled, and they chased her nightmares away together.

They stumbled out to the breakfast table rather late the next morning, but they weren't the only ones. Charles and Lilandra came down a few seconds after they did, both impeccably dressed but with small smiles on their faces. Jean shot the Professor one look under her lashes, smiled, and returned to the stove, where she was just finishing the bacon. Scott had the same smile on his face, and Logan rather suspected something of the same sort was on his as well. Sara alone seemed slightly distant, wrapped in a thick sweater and long sleeved jacket. She suddenly seemed cold all the time. He couldn't figure out why; it was June, after all.

Lilandra seemed relaxed today, even engaging in some small joking around. Sara had a forkful of eggs halfway to her mouth when she said casually, "As my business here is concluded, I should be getting back to the Throneworld, but I can't bring myself to go home just yet…"

Her fork fell with a clatter to her plate, and everyone stared at her. She was staring out into space, her eyes blank, and her mouth moved. When her voice came out, it wasn't hers; it sounded like a hundred voices all speaking together. "Home," they whispered. "Take us home…"

Sara blinked, and her eyes returned to normal. She picked her fork back up and was about to resume eating when she realized they were all staring at her. "What?"

"What did you say?" Xavier asked her.

"What did I say?" she looked genuinely puzzled.

Jean crossed the breakfast room quickly. "I felt something too, Charles. Sara, can you let me in?" Sara dropped her shields.

Jean slipped into the first layer of her conscious, 'looking' around. Nothing. Charles followed her as they slipped into her subconscious…

And was assaulted by a blast of noise, the sound of a hundred thousand voices calling in concert, _Take us home! _The two telepaths reeled for a moment in the wave of sound. Charles steadied himself.

****

Who are you? he asked.

__

We are the lost, came the return answer. _We want to go home. Take us home!_

****

Where is home?

__

Far from here.

****

How far?

__

Lots of black spaces away.

Charles restrained himself from sighing, just barely. **We are on a planet called Earth. What is your home called?**

__

Metar.

****

How were you brought here?

__

By the black bird.

****

What are you doing here in the body of our friend?

__

We were put here by the black bird.

****

What do you look like?

In front of their eyes flashed a picture of the smooth silver surface of Sara's skin. Charles heard Jean gasp. **Charles, the metal Koven bonded to Sara's skin…it's alive!**

Charles took a closer look…and discovered it was true. What looked like a smooth plate of metal was, at the microscopic level, really a colony of thousands, of hundreds of tens of thousands, of microscopic silver organisms. It was all terribly clear. The metal wasn't metal at all, but living organisms. They wanted to return home, to the planet of their origin. It was a simple enough wish, but with one problem; it was permanently bonded to Sara's skin. **We will do what we can,** he promised the organisms, and withdrew.

He opened his eyes, and saw the same sick horror in her face that he saw on Jean's. He spoke, his voice tight. "Lilandra, did your scientists ever analyze the metal at the microscopic level?"

"No," she said, puzzled. "The planet it came from is the closest planet to a white dwarf star. It was too hot on the surface to do much of anything. Our probe, the one that went down to the surface to collect our samples of the metal, returned rather melted. We have kept it at the same surface temperature to maintain its fluidity."

"How many probes were sent down there to collect samples? How much of this stuff do you have?"

"Only the amounts Koven stole to create his creatures. We had the metal from his failed experiments melted down and returned to its fluid state, and my ship collected the parts of Gero's body" Sara flinched, and Lilandra shot her an apologetic glance but went on, "and the metal that was used on Sara here. Charles, why?"

"It's not metal, Lilandra. It's living creatures. Thousands upon thousands upon thousands of them. They are microscopic. They came from a very hot planet, that's why Sara's been feeling so cold. Lilandra, they want to go home."

"That's what it meant, then," Logan said. They looked at him. "Sare, ya talk in yer sleep. Last night ya were mumblin' somethin' 'bout bein' home a'ready, that you didn't need ta go home. It wasn't you talkin', it was the organisms. But they can't go home, Chuck, they're bonded ta Sara's skin. The only way I can see ta get 'em off would be either ta melt it all off Sare's body, or ta have it removed magnetically…No!" he exploded as he saw a thought flash across Xavier's eyes. "Ya can't!"

Lilandra looked at Charles again for explanation. " I have an old friend, sometimes enemy, named Magneto. He manipulates powerful magnetic fields, Lilandra. He could possibly pull the metal magnetically from Sara's skin. Sara, if you would be willing to try it, then I will call him. He will come; he owes me a favor."

"Yeah, after all the times we gone an' pulled his fat out o' the fire," Logan grumbled.

"I'll try it, Charles," Sara said, a bit desperately as she shivered in her sweater and jacket. "They need to go home."


	9. Magneto

Chapter 9: Magneto

Magneto arrived at the mansion early the next afternoon, accompanied by Amelia Voght, one of his Acolytes and an old flame of Charles's. Ignoring the hostile looks he was getting from the rest of the X-Men, he went straight down to the infirmary. "What is this about, Charles?" he said. "You sent me no explanation, just a request that I be here. What--" his voice trailed off as he saw Sara standing beside Xavier, wrapped in a sweatshirt, sweater, and bulky jacket, and still shivering. It wasn't her clothing he looked at, but her face, at the metal that covered half her face. She had left her contact lens off, and her white eye looked so much more startling.

"Incredible," he said finally. He reached out to touch it, and Sara flinched at the upraised hand.

"Sorry," she murmured at his surprised look. "Old habits die hard." She didn't explain, and he didn't ask. He reached out instead to touch her face again. She pushed his hand away and pushed her sleeve back, exposing the latticework of delicate metal tendrils that covered her skin. He touched that, feeling the metal.

"It has a manipulatible magnetic field," he murmured to himself. "Charles, could we get started? I do have other places to be."

"Certainly," Xavier said, and Sara took a deep breath, lying down on the bed. He shook his head. "The clothes will have to come off," he said.

Sara flushed a brilliant pink. "Please," she started to say, then sighed. She took off her sweater and all her clothes, down to her underwear, and lay down, but he shook his head. 

"All of it," he said. Sara blushed. "My dear," he said with a trace of impatience, "I am not doing this so I can stare at you like some adolescent schoolboy. There must be no obstruction between my field and this metal." She hesitated a moment more, and then reluctantly removed her underclothing, lying on the table nude and shivering. Hank turned the heat up in the room for her comfort, and she smiled at him gratefully.

Magneto stretched his hand out over her body and 'pulled' at the metal lightly. When nothing happened, he exerted a little more force. Sara gasped. He increased the pull again. She gasped, and her face twisted briefly. Without warning, he yanked at the metal with about two-thirds of his power.

Sara screamed in agony; it felt like her skin was being ripped from her body again. Magneto stopped, leaving her slumped on the table, sobbing. She took deep breaths, getting herself under control, and lay down. Her fingers curled around the edge of the bed as Magneto raised his hands again.

This time he used all his power, and it really hurt. She dug her fingers into the bed, not noticing when her nails broke and began bleeding. Her entire body was wrapped in the magnetic field, and she writhed in it, clawing at the mattress beneath her, screaming soundlessly. Suddenly a cacophony of voices filled the room, screaming too, and they howled, _Hurt! HURTHURTHURT STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP!_ Magneto stopped, and there was no sound in the room for a while except for Sara's ragged, torturous breathing. Then the massed voice of the metal organisms ripped through the silence of the room. _Get OUT! Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout!_

"Charles, what is that?" He looked startled.

Xavier sighed. "The Shi'ar thought it was metal. It wasn't. We discovered it was actually a colony of microscopic organisms that look like metal. A Shi'ar scientist bonded this metal to her body by removing patches of her skin and replacing it with the metal. But the organisms seem to possess telepathy, as well as a hive mind, and they were what you heard."

Magneto shook his head. "Incredible. But trying this…it's no use, Charles. It's bonded to her body. I can't get it off. You will have to find another solution." He gently slipped a hand under Sara's arm and helped her stand. "I'm sorry, my dear," he said. "I cannot help you." He turned his face aside as she put on her underclothing and jeans.

Sara flashed him a weak smile as she pulled her sweater over her head. "You tried. I thank you for that, even if it didn't work." She leaned heavily on his arm as he helped her out of the room, disappearing down the hall, and turned to Charles. 

Xavier shook his hand. "Thank you for trying, old friend."

"I'm sorry I couldn't help," Erik said. "She's a lovely girl under all that metal."

Sara went down to the Danger Room and set up a simulation, working with her ordinary sword. 

Anger smoldered in her mind as she attacked the simulated enemy. It wasn't fair! She had finally found a place where she belonged, a man who loved her, and this had to happen. She was disfigured, ruined, and nothing was going to help. The voices in her head were driving her crazy, calling to her incessantly. If only she could block them out. But she'd tried putting up the shields and barriers that Xavier and Jean had taught her to put up against other telepaths, and it hadn't worked. She savagely chopped down another enemy, ignoring her protesting muscles and aching wrists. She'd been going at this way too long, but she didn't know how else to work off her frustration. She was in the middle of slashing apart a Brood warrior when the simulation froze.

Logan had been watching her slash and rip apart everything in her path for a while now from the observation room. She was dripping sweat, panting, clearly exhausted, but whatever the thoughts were that were making her angry, they weren't going away. He called a halt to the simulation and entered, handing her a towel. "Sare," he said, "Yer not doin' yerself any good hackin' things up like this. Wanna talk about it?"

"No," she said shortly.

"Sare, c'mon. Ya know ya can talk ta me. Ain't nothin' yer goin' through that I ain't already gone through myself. I had adamantium bonded ta me too, ya know."

"To your bones, Logan. Mine's on my skin, where everyone can see it! I see the funny looks everyone's giving me! And the way Magneto looked at me, like I'm some sort of lab specimen or something! I hate it! I hate all of this! Why can't everyone just leave me alone!" She crumpled to her knees, burying her face in her hands.

Logan knelt in front of her, hating the anguish that poured out of her. "Sare," he said gently, taking her arms and trying to pull them away from her face, "Listen ta me--"

She pulled away from him. He pursued her, grabbing her arms again. "Sare--"

She struck out at him blindly. Wrapped in her own anguish, she slapped him soundly across his cheek. He raised his hand and slapped her back, harder than she'd hit him. He instantly mentally kicked himself for his reaction, but it was too late.

She raised her hand to her red cheek, staring at him, and he wished with all his might that he hadn't done that. "Not you, too," she whispered. 

He stared at her, hating himself. "Sara, I…I don't know what possessed me to…" he tried to reach out to her again. 

She scrambled out of his reach, and he saw all the old fear crowd into her eyes again. With a choked-off gasp she pushed away from him and ran out of the room.

Lilandra drooped as she was informed of the results of the experiment. "There is nothing else to be done, then, Charles. She is stuck with the organisms bonded to her body. I wish it wasn't so."

Logan stuck his head into Xavier's study. "Chuck, have ya seen Sare? I can't find her anywhere."

Xavier said, "No, I haven't. What happened?"

Logan shifted uneasily. "We had a fight. Sara hit me. Damn fool that I was, I hit her back. She ran away. I don't know where she is."

Xavier blinked. "You hit her? After all she's been through? Logan, what were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinkin'," he said grimly. Xavier closed his eyes. "She's not in the mansion. I need to get to Cerebro, find out where she went." His hoverchair went at full speed down the hall, leaving Lilandra and Logan to catch up however they could.

He sent his mind questing out beyond the walls, out over the extensive grounds. No Sara. He sent his thought out over the roads, then into the town. And what he found made him call urgently to the X-Men.

****

X-Men! He cried urgently. **Sara's at the warehouse that Koven used. She's going to take his ship back to the creatures' home planet! You must stop her!** But he already knew it was no use. She had too much of a head start. Perhaps…

"Lilandra, he gasped, "Sara's trying to take Koven's ship back to the creatures' home planet. Can you--"

Her communicator beeped, and she picked it up. "Majestrix, there is a small two-person craft leaving Earth's atmosphere. Do you want us to--"

"Yes, yes, put a tractor beam on it and keep it from leaving!" she exclaimed. She listened as her flagship's captain spat out a string of orders in the Shi'ar Imperial language, listened as the tractor beam was deployed. Then there was cursing in several other languages as the beam apparently missed and Koven's craft, with Sara on it, soared past Earth's moon and headed off into the deep velvety blackness of space. "Majestrix--" came the apologetic voice of the captain, "we're sorry, the ship is gone, it was too fast for our beam--"

"I am coming up," Lilandra said immediately, "We know where the craft is going. Charles, do you wish to come? My craft will hold all of us, though it will be slightly cramped until we get aboard the flagship."

"Yes, we're coming." Xavier broadcast a mental call to the X-Men. **X-Men! Get to the hanger, quickly! Get aboard Lilandra's ship. Don't stop for anything, we won't be gone long. I'll explain once we're all aboard. Hurry!** He made sure the Imperial Guard heard it as well.

Normally Charles enjoyed watching the deployment of the Shi'ar's stargating technology; the huge ring of light in the blackness of space that would cut the time it took to reach Lilandra's Throneworld by more than half. But he was too worried now to really care about the scenery outside the window, and he knew the others felt the same. 

As they followed Lilandra onto the bridge, he asked her, "Why are we using the stargating technology? Shouldn't we just follow her?"

"Lilandra looked grim. "No. Charles, did you never wonder how Koven reached your planet before I could get word to you? He took the technology to build a miniature stargate with him. Apparently he left the computer on autopilot and it is responding to her. No, our only hope is that we reach it before she does. She will not survive on the planet's surface without an environmental suit."

In the dark space beside a white dwarf star, a ring of light appeared, and a silver craft slipped through it, settling into a stationary orbit around the chunk of rock closest to that dwarf star. Just before the Stargate closed, however, a smaller craft slipped through, not the gleaming seamless Shi'ar design, but one a bit rougher, cruder, belonging to a race who had not yet fully developed spaceflight.

Magneto's ship dropped out of hyperspace, and Voght shuddered. "We will have to go back through that again going back," she made a face. Magneto paid no attention to her, concentrating instead on the small silvwer craft orbiting the rock in front of them. Moments later the much larger Shi'ar royal flagship dropped out of its own stargate and settled into orbit behind the small silver craft. No notice was taken of his ship, keeping a cautious distance from the other two. Then both craft sent tiny personal shuttles down to the planet's surface.

Sara stepped out of the shuttle and onto the surface of the planet. The heat hit her like a wave, setting her human skin to sweating. The voices in her head, which had been getting so loud and so persistent that she couldn't stand it anymore, were shrieking in joy at being home. As she turned and saw the pools of silver all over the surface, the cacophony of voices crashing into her head turned into physical agony and she clutched her head, whimpering. There was no barrier she could erect against this assault, nothing she could do. She only vaguely heard the whine of another shuttle touching down onto the scorching surface of the planet, then a gentle arm went around her shoulders and she looked up, seeing Logan's face through his spacesuit's helmet screen. "Sara," he cried to her, "I love ya, please, c'mon! We'll find some way of getting' these creatures offa ya, I swear we will! I'm sorry fer hittin' ya, I didn't mean it, please! Sara, it's too hot, it'll kill both of us, please c'mon!" He tugged her to her feet, and she, growing uncomfortable in the heat, took a step toward the shuttle.

Then a fierce wave of psychic anger washed over her and froze her where she stood. The creatures were not going to allow her to go. They wanted to go home, and they didn't care about her. Seemingly of their own volition, her feet began to walk toward a sheer cliff a short distance away. Logan ran after her as she called in panic, "I can't…Logan, help! They're making me…I can't…help me!" He seized her arm, but the creatures' hold on her mind was too strong, and she was getting inexorably closer to that sheer cliff.. Gladiator and Scott jumped out of the shuttle, fully suited, and began to run toward them.

__

Home! The voices in her head exulted as they drove her ever closer to the cliff. _Jump off! _ They cried to her._ Free us! The heat in our planet's core will melt us off this body and we will be free!_

****

But it will kill me! Sara screamed to the voices in her head. 

They didn't care. She screamed in terror as her body took that last fatal step off the cliff, and suddenly found herself caught, arrested in midair. Logan clung to her wrist with all his strength, and she reached up, seizing his wrist with her other. "Logan, save me!" she screamed in terror. "Please! Help!"

"Sara! Can you climb up if ya hold on?" He called to her as Gladiator and Scott reached him, braced him against themselves, and reached down a hand to her. Sara began to try, pulling herself up, and it almost looked for a moment as though she would make it. She screamed suddenly, desperately, as the creatures turned their attention to her fingers. She strained to keep her grip, calling to her would-be rescuers that they were making her uncurl her fingers, and there was nothing she could do. Her fingers gradually uncurled, responding to the relentless inner prompting from the creatures on her body, and to the pull of gravity, and she fell.

Logan howled in anguish and made a last, desperate grab for her. His hand closed on something, and it came away in his hand as she fell. He heard her scream halfway down into the lava flow below, then there was nothing but silence, and his gasping sobs as he clutched the necklace he had given her a couple years ago, its chain broken. The three men stood for a long time at the top of the cliff, mourning their friend, before the heat made it imperative for them to leave.

The mood in the mansion was somber, as the X-Men mourned her loss. Logan spent a great deal of time alone, staring at her necklace. He had added the delicate gold pendant to the chain that held his dog tags. He was absently rubbing the purple stone when Scott came into the kitchen. He sat at the kitchen table silently.

"It never goes away, Logan," Scott said quietly. "The hurt gets less after a while, and you move on, but the memory is always there, and it never stops hurting. When Jean did I felt like I wanted to die, too. Nothing ever hurt so bad before. Nothing will ever hurt as bad as that did. But life has to go on, Logan."

Logan sat for a moment more, then said, "Ya got a Danger Room session planned fer this afternoon?"

"No. But if you like, you and I could go kick some simulated butt. Would that make you feel better?"

Logan nodded. "Yeah." As he got up, the pendant caught the sun's rays, filtering in through the window, and glowed for a moment.


End file.
